


answers in the dark

by zach_stone



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - X-Files Fusion, Government Conspiracy, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Sci-fi bullshit, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, The Truth is Out There, Trans Character, Trans Newton Geiszler, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2019-10-08 15:17:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17388782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone
Summary: Hermann Gottlieb, one of the best analysts in the FBI, is thrown entirely out of his element when he is assigned to work with Newt "Spooky" Geiszler to uncover the answers to a collection of cases known as the X-Files.





	1. IT CAME FROM THE DEPTHS, part one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skeleton_twins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_twins/gifts), [decadent_mousse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/gifts).



> HELLO HELLO... welcome to the fic that has been consuming my mind since september! i'm so excited to finally start posting it! 
> 
> a few orders of business: while this fic obviously draws heavily from the overall concept of the x-files and will slide in references, the cases newt and hermann will be taking on will be mostly my own invention, not retelling plotlines from the show. so don't worry if you're not super familiar with the x-files, you should be able to enjoy this just the same! 
> 
> also, a HUGE shoutout to erica and mousse, to whom this fic is dedicated bc they have been cheering me on to write this for ages now, and if nothing else i know they'll enjoy it. you guys are the bomb dot com and i love u dearly. 
> 
> aaaand i think that's it! hope you enjoy! ;)

In the meager light of the half moon, the surface of the lake looked like smooth, black glass. The stillness was interrupted by the slap of an oar against the surface, sending ripples outward from the small rowboat drifting toward the center of the water.

“Why would you rent a rowboat if you don’t know how to row?” Hermann snapped for the third time in the past half hour. He couldn’t help himself — watching Newt flail his oar about was giving Hermann a stress migraine.

“I _know_ how to row,” Newt insisted, slapping the water with the flat of the oar again and making no progress in moving the little boat forward. “I’m just — I’m getting my bearings, alright? I’ve got this, dude.”

Hermann had a scathing retort on the tip of his tongue, but before he could say it, there was an ominous _glug_ from directly beside the boat. Newt frowned, leaning over the side.

“Did you —” Newt began. Something unseen took hold of the oar, yanking it with astonishing force away from the side of the boat and _down_ , into the water. And Newt, clinging to the handle, went with it. His exclamation of shock was drowned out in the loud splash as he disappeared over the side of the boat and into the depths below.

 

_Three weeks earlier …_

 

In his years as an intelligence analyst for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Hermann Gottlieb had grown quite skilled at compartmentalizing distracting emotions, like fear or uncertainty. It was, he knew, what made him so good at his job — and he _was_ good at his job. Despite this, he found himself hesitating as he stood outside the assistant director’s office. He gripped the handle of his cane with one sweaty hand, clenched his fist, and then quickly lifted it and knocked before he could talk himself out of it.

Stacker Pentecost’s brisk voice from inside said, “Come in.”

Hermann eased the door open and peered inside. “Good morning, sir. You wanted to see me?”

“Agent Gottlieb,” Pentecost said, offering him a reassuring smile. “Good to see you. Please, have a seat.”

Hermann sat down at one of the chairs in front of Pentecost’s desk. Stacker Pentecost was a man who commanded attention and respect. He’d personally recommended Hermann to assist with a number of cases, and always spoke highly of him. Hermann admired him with a fervor that bordered on embarrassing, though he thought he did a fairly good job of keeping that to himself. Unconsciously, he sat up a little straighter as Pentecost leaned across the desk to scrutinize him.

“You know you’re one of our best analysts,” Pentecost said. “Your work has been crucial in closing a number of cases. How long have you been with the Bureau now?”

“Three years in January, sir,” Hermann said, feeling his face heat up at the praise. “I appreciate the kind words. Forgive me, but — why exactly did you want to see me?” He couldn’t help but feel that this was leading up to something terrible. Dread was settling in the pit of his stomach.

Pentecost eyed him in silence for a moment, before abruptly leaning back in his chair again. “Does the name Newton Geiszler mean anything to you?”

Hermann raised his eyebrows. “Er, I am familiar with him indirectly. That is, I’ve read some of his work. His skill in forensics precedes him, as do his… more eccentric interests. He had a nickname in the Academy.” At Pentecost’s questioning look, Hermann continued, with a wry chuckle, “Spooky Geiszler.”

“I see.” Pentecost steepled his fingers. “That does sound fitting. Agent Gottlieb, you’ve been assigned to work with Agent Geiszler for the foreseeable future. I’m sure you’re aware of his pet project, the so-called X-Files?”

“Vaguely. Unexplained phenomena, as far as I understand it. Not really my area.” Hermann frowned. “I’m sorry, you’re assigning me to work with him?”

“Not me,” Pentecost said. “The higher-ups want someone reviewing his reports, checking the… validity of his work. Given that I’ve spoken so highly of you in the past, you seemed the logical choice in their eyes.”

Hermann couldn’t even find it in himself to be flattered. This felt like some kind of a punishment. “Sir, are you asking me to debunk the X-Files project?”

“I am asking you to do your job, Agent Gottlieb, to the best of your abilities.” Pentecost gave him a significant look. “Whether or not you’ll find anything that requires debunking, I can’t say. Agent Geiszler has already been briefed on your partnership. You’ll be relocating to the basement with him for the duration of this assignment.”

“I…” Hermann trailed off, lost for words. There was little use arguing, in any case; Pentecost himself had said it was out of his hands, and even if it weren’t, he was not easily swayed once he’d made a decision. “I see. Thank you, sir.”

As he made his way to the basement office, Hermann’s irritation only grew. His injury from his university years had barred him from becoming a field agent, but he’d found a way to make himself invaluable as an analyst. He did _important_ work, high-priority cases involving time-sensitive decoding and poring over crime scene evidence to find patterns that uncovered crime rings and serial killers. Hermann was not a prideful man, but he had worked hard to earn the respect of his colleagues. To be assigned to essentially check the paperwork of a man with a reputation as a cryptid-obsessed fool — it was demeaning, is what it was.

By the time he reached the door to Agent Geiszler’s office, Hermann was steaming, his lips twisted into a sour frown. He rapped on the door with more force than was strictly necessary. From the other side, a muffled voice called, “Enter at your own risk!”

Hermann shoved the door open, and found himself face-to-face with Newton Geiszler for the first time. He didn’t immediately process his new partner standing behind the desk, however, because he was so taken aback by the state of the room. Filing cabinets filled most of the space along the walls. A large corkboard behind the desk was crammed with various photographs and scraps of paper. Hermann could make out what looked like blurry “UFO” shots and several scrawled drawings of what looked like Godzilla. The desk was cluttered with files and empty coffee mugs, and then there was the man himself.

Newton Geiszler was a short, stocky man, barely adhering to dress code with his suit jacket discarded on the back of his chair and his tie loose around his neck. His rolled sleeves revealed a colorful array of tattoos. He had on a _pinky ring_ , of all things. Geiszler was looking at Hermann with amused anticipation, and he was holding a folder in his hands.

“You must be Hermann,” Geiszler said.

Hermann bristled. Where did this man get off acting so familiar already? “Yes,” he replied stiffly. “And you’re Agent Geiszler. I understand we’ll be working together for the time being.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Geiszler said. “I’ll be honest, I’ve gotten by doing solo work this far, and I don’t exactly need someone proofreading my field reports. I’m very good at my job, you see.” He _winked_. Hermann was incensed.

“Yes, well, I assure you this was not my first choice, either.” He narrowed his eyes at the folder in Geiszler’s hands, and was startled to see his own name on it. “What is that you’re holding?”

“Oh, this?” Geiszler held it up. “Your personnel file.”

Hermann’s eyes bugged. “That is _private_ — how did you even —”

“Relax, just wanted to get a little insight to whoever they were sending in to spy on me,” Geiszler said, waving him off.  “Let’s see here.” He flipped the folder open, making as if he were skimming through it, though it was obvious to Hermann that he’d read it already. “Dr. Hermann Gottlieb… Oxford educated for undergrad, got your master’s in the States… looks like you were on a trajectory to be an astronaut for the ESA, but you switched gears. Applied for U.S. citizenship, got a PhD in… applied mathematics, _woof_. Then you joined the Bureau.” Geiszler snapped the file shut and drummed his fingers against the plastic cover. “That’s some history, my man.”

“Yes, _thank_ you for the review,” Hermann sniffed. “And I suppose it doesn’t meet your expectations? Not what you’d hoped for in a partner?”

“Why would you say that?” Geiszler asked, smiling.

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “How did you put it — ‘applied mathematics, _woof_.’”

Geiszler laughed out loud. “Oh geez, you gotta work on your impressions, dude. That was adorable. Say ‘woof’ again.”

Unamused, Hermann strode forward and snatched his file out of the other man’s hands. “Agent Geiszler, if we are to work together effectively, I must request that you speak to me with at least a modicum of professionalism.”  

“Professionalism?” Geiszler repeated, snorting. “Enlighten me, Hermann, how exactly should I be speaking to you?”

“By referring to me as Agent Gottlieb, for a start,” Hermann replied coolly. “Not ‘Hermann’ and certainly not ‘dude.’” Geiszler rolled his eyes, but Hermann pressed on. “And seeing as you apparently know _my_ life story, I’d very much appreciate some insight to your… interests in this department. I believe Pentecost mentioned you took on the X-Files as something of a pet project.”

“Is that what he said? That’s kinder than what he usually calls it,” Geiszler said wryly. “But he didn’t tell you anything else?”

Hermann shook his head. “He seemed to think you would fill me in on the details, as it were.”

“You want details? Okay. Tell me, _Agent Gottlieb_ ,” Geiszler said, leaning across the desk with a leering grin, “do you believe in Bigfoot?”

Hermann let out a startled little huff. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“How about good ol’ Nessie? Mothman? El Chupacabra?” He tried to roll the “r” and failed spectacularly.

“Folktales and campfire stories, all of it. Are you trying to insinuate that you believe such creatures exist?” Hermann scoffed.

“All stories come from somewhere, Hermann.” Geiszler was still grinning, like _Hermann_ was the butt of the joke here. It was utterly unfathomable. Then he leaned in even closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Here’s the big one: Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?”

Hermann paused. He opened his mouth wordlessly for a moment, then shut it again. “To believe there is no other intelligent life in the whole of the universe would be wildly egotistical on our part,” he said carefully. “So in that respect, yes, I believe extraterrestrial life exists. But do I believe in little green men in flying saucers who have made contact with Earth? No.”

Geiszler’s smile faded. “Y’know, you really got my hopes up for a second there.”

“Well, I shall endeavor not to do so again,” Hermann said. Geiszler let out a humorless laugh, leaning away and lifting his hands in apparent defeat. Hermann rolled his eyes, still clutching his personnel file to his chest, and took another look around the room. “Now where am I meant to put my things? There’s only one desk.”

Geiszler’s sneer returned. “You’re a smart guy, Hermann. I’m sure you can figure something out.”

Yes, this was going to go just _swimmingly_ , Hermann thought.

\--

For the next two and a half weeks, Hermann confined himself to the basement office and went through Geiszler’s most recent case files. They were all a mess, his handwriting bordering on illegible, and to top it all off Hermann had to transcribe hours of audio from several handheld recorders included in some of the files. Geiszler sounded — different, on the recordings. The mockery and flippancy he used to speak to Hermann whenever they interacted was nowhere to be found in his recorded field notes. There was a breathless, giddy quality to some of the recordings, and a reverent seriousness to others. The common thread through all of them was a penchant for distractibility.

 _“After speaking with George’s mother, I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was abducted. The loss of time, the unexplainable scar on his lower back… these are things I’ve seen before. Note to self, review the Hatchetfield case file. This has a similar, how to put it, paranormal stink to it. Ha. As an aside, this place actually_ does _stink. Like, update your city’s sewage system, c’mon guys. I inhale and I’m breathing in every person in this town’s sh—”_

“Oh for God’s sake,” Hermann grumbled, clicking off the recorder to stop Geiszler’s rambling mid-sentence. “Bloody unprofessional.” He shoved the chair back from the desk, lifting his arms over his head and wincing at the way his joints popped.

Geiszler was not in the office today, and Hermann was taking advantage of having the whole desk to himself instead of being relegated to the tiny table he’d dragged into the room. The desk was still as cluttered as it had been the day Hermann arrived, despite his best efforts to pointedly mention they had a _sink_ for the dirty dishes. Geiszler had taken great lengths to personalize the space, and Hermann felt a bit like he was intruding on someone else’s home.

Along with the coffee mugs, there were stacks of comic books and CDs, a plastic Godzilla action figure that glowed in the dark, a little trans pride flag sticking out of the overflowing pencil cup. There were several framed photos propped up on the desk next to the computer: one of Geiszler at the age of ten or so, wearing a yellow raincoat and hat, beaming and holding up a fishing rod. Another photo was Geiszler again, this time in graduation robes and hugging a man who appeared to be his father. There were more — his father was in a couple of them, but most were just of Geiszler alone, his various accomplishments. Hermann huffed to himself. He did not want to admit that the photos, like the recordings, softened the image of Geiszler that Hermann held in his mind.

He resented Hermann being there, that much was clear. Hermann could understand, to a degree; Geiszler felt he was being spied on. Still, there was no need to take it out on Hermann — it wasn’t as though Hermann had asked for this! The whole situation was utterly maddening, and Geiszler’s determination to either rile him up or avoid him entirely was quickly growing tiresome. Hermann had been cooped up in the tiny basement office for far too long, and he decided the best course of action was to make his way upstairs and visit the break room near his old desk. It had far better coffee than what the basement’s shoddy coffee pot could make.

Upstairs, he was just rounding the corner to walk into the break room when someone brushed past him with a mug of coffee in each hand. Their muttered “‘Scuse me,” was cut off mid-sentence as the person did a double-take, face splitting into a wide grin. “Gottlieb! Well I’ll be damned!”

“Agent Choi,” Hermann said with a nod and a small smile. Tendo Choi, a fellow analyst, was beaming at him delightedly, shifting both mugs precariously into one hand so he could clap Hermann on the shoulder.

“What are you doing up here? I thought you’d been booted to the basement.”

“Unfortunately, that’s still the case,” Hermann said. “I just needed a moment away from that… den of insanity.”

Tendo chuckled. “I hear ya, brother. How’s it working ol’ Spooky Geiszler, then? I hear you two don’t exactly get along.”

“I’m managing,” Hermann said, his smile faltering. “People have been talking about it?”

“Someone said they heard the two of you hollering at each other, that’s all,” Tendo said reassuringly. “You wouldn’t be the first. Newt’s not exactly easy to work with.”

Hermann snorted. “That’s putting it mildly, I’d say.” Despite himself, his mind wandered to the picture of a young Geiszler in that yellow raincoat. To the array of photos, none of them depicting Geiszler with a single friend. “Do you know him well?”

Tendo shrugged. “Well enough. I helped him with a case a few years back. He’s crazy smart, even if he’s… you know. Out there.” He paused, chuckling to himself. “Actually, I can kinda see why they assigned you to work with him.”

“What do you mean?” Hermann said, frowning.

“You’re a lot alike.”

 _“What?!”_ Hermann squawked. “In what _possible_ way are we alike?”

“Whoa, easy,” Tendo said, holding up his free hand disarmingly. “I just mean you’re both — intense. Brilliant. Keep to yourselves. It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You’re good at what you do, both of you. Newt’s unconventional, but he’s solved some big cases in his day, before he decided to go chasing flying saucers.”

Hermann hummed noncommittally. He was aware of Geiszler’s accomplishments as a field agent — after Geiszler’s stunt with the personnel file, Hermann had done a little snooping of his own — but that didn’t change the fact that the man was a thorn in Hermann’s side, the bane of his existence, and the absolute last person he’d want to be compared to in a professional setting.

Tendo patted Hermann’s shoulder again. “I won’t keep you. It’s nice to see you, Gottlieb. We’ll get lunch sometime, yeah?”

“Of course,” Hermann said absently. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen even after Tendo had left, his thoughts fixed on the ways in which someone could possibly see similarities between himself and _Newton Geiszler_.

\--

Geiszler swanned into the basement office one morning with a cheeriness Hermann hadn’t seen from him since their first meeting nearly three weeks prior. Hermann peered over the top of his glasses at his partner while the other man tossed his bag onto the floor. He glanced over at Hermann, who was sitting at the desk, and then did a double take.

“That’s my desk,” he said. He didn’t sound accusatory, just surprised.

“ _Our_ desk, I should think,” Hermann sniffed. “You can’t expect me to work at that miserable little end table all day.”

“Oh.” Geiszler nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Hey, I’m sorry. We can move some of the file cabinets to storage, see if we can’t fit another desk in here for you.”

“That would be… appreciated,” Hermann said, narrowing his eyes. “What’s all this about?”

“What do you mean?”

Hermann took off his glasses, letting them hang by the chain against his chest. “Agent Geiszler, in our short time together you have not once shown any sign of accommodating me in this space. In fact, you seem determined to make me as uncomfortable as possible. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Geiszler winced. “You make me sound like a real asshole.”

“If the shoe fits,” Hermann said, pressing his lips together to subdue the sudden urge to smile.

“You got me there,” Geiszler chuckled. “Okay, cards on the table: I need your help.”

Hermann’s eyebrows shot up. “My help? With what, precisely?”

“Okay,” Geiszler said again. There was a note of excitement in his voice now, and he came over to the desk to sit on top of it across from Hermann. He reached into the inner pocket of his blazer to withdraw a folded piece of paper. “We just got a call from the sheriff in Minnow Lake. Are you familiar with the town?”

“I’ve heard the name before, but I haven’t been there,” Hermann said, frowning. “It’s a small town, from what I recall. Everyone knows everyone else’s business, that sort of place.”

“Exactly. Not much happens in sleepy little towns like Minnow Lake, and when something _does_ happen, it’s kind of a big deal.” Geiszler unfolded the paper and spread it out on the desk between them. It was a newspaper clipping, from what appeared to be the front page of the Minnow Lake local paper. _THIRD DEATH IN MINNOW LAKE — POLICE SUSPECT FOUL PLAY_.

“A serial killer?” Hermann asked, picking up the clipping and scanning the article.

“That’s what the police are leaning toward. This is from today’s paper — it’s the third death in the lake in the past two months. No real linking factors between victims except for the fact that they all live in town. And the manner of their deaths.” Geiszler tapped the article. “They were drowned, but it’s more than that. All three victims have the same markings on their bodies.” He dug into his pocket again, this time producing three polaroid photos. They depicted three different cadavers, each bearing strange, large welts on various limbs.

“Hmm.” Hermann looked up at Geiszler. “And you think this is an X-File?”

“Get this — on the other bank of the lake, technically no longer in Minnow Lake town limits, there’s a research facility that used to run various tests on the flora and fauna in the area. It shut down about twenty years ago. Accused of negatively affecting the wildlife.”

“And…? I presume you have a point.”

“I do,” Geiszler said, smiling widely. “Around the same time the facility shut down, a woman named Abigail Dumont drowned in the lake. Her body was recovered with strange welts on both ankles.” Geiszler paused, but when Hermann just stared at him, he went on. “Three months ago, the facility began operating again. There was a report of them dumping ‘chemical waste’ into the lake, but they were found in compliance with all the necessary regulations, so the charge was dropped.”

Hermann sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Agent Geiszler —”

“Call me Newt, dude.”

“I will not do that,” Hermann said.

“I’ll stop calling you ‘dude’ if you call me Newt,” Geiszler wheedled.

Hermann couldn’t hold back his brief smile this time. “You won’t.”

“I won’t,” Geiszler — _Newt_ , Hermann thought begrudgingly — agreed. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“I fail to see how any of the information you’ve just presented me is even connected to the recent murders. If you’ve just come in here to waste my time, I assure you that I have plenty more important things to do — making sense of your sorry excuses for case files, for one.” Hermann gestured pointedly to the stack of folders at his elbow. “So please, either enlighten me or leave me be.”

“Sheesh, fine,” Newt said, rolling his eyes. “No appreciation for a good buildup. The facility on the bank of the lake is very secretive about the nature of its research, but what we do know is that twenty years ago, they were allegedly working on cell manipulation. Genetic mutation.” He waited again, looking at Hermann expectantly.

“Are you trying to imply the murders were committed by some mutated creature dumped in the lake?” Hermann said, exasperated.

“Hey, if the shoe fits,” Newt parroted. Hermann scowled at him. “Anyway, since the Abigail Dumont case was in my files, and the local police are requesting FBI support in catching the killer, the case has been handed our way.”

“I see,” Hermann said. “Well, if you have anything you’d like me to look over now…”

“No, no, you don’t understand. Hermann, I want you to come with me to Minnow Lake.”

Hermann stiffened. “Agent Geiszler, I trust that you are aware I’m not a field agent. My job is —”

“— to support my investigations by analyzing the evidence and reporting on what I bring in from the cases, I know,” Newt interrupted again. “Think of this as cutting out the middleman. Come on, Hermann. I know there’s a part of you that wants to get in on the action. You don’t really love being chained to this desk all day, do you?”

Hermann’s hand dropped, almost unconsciously, to his bad knee. He gripped it through the fabric of his trousers, digging his fingers into the scarred flesh. Damn Newt and his already keen understanding of how to get under Hermann’s skin. “Fine,” he relented. “Seeing as I _highly_ doubt the existence of any mutant in the waters, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get a change of scenery while I’m cleaning up your messes.”

“That’s the spirit,” Newt said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And you haven’t even considered the best part — you and I are going on a road trip!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Hermann and Newt head to the sleepy town of Minnow Lake in search of answers. Newt pisses off the sheriff. Hermann feels nauseous. 
> 
> i'm going to try to update on a weekly-ish basis, but don't hold me to that. i would adore you forever if you care to leave a comment - i've been working super hard on this fic and i've been so excited to finally share it! 
> 
> find me @hermanngottiieb on twitter


	2. IT CAME FROM THE DEPTHS, part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Any ideas?” Hermann asked.  
> Newt shrugged. “Sure, I’ve got plenty. Not sure you want to hear ‘em, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back y'all! i was genuinely blown away by all the awesome response to the first chapter - you guys are too kind!! i hope you'll continue to enjoy the adventure i'm sending our boys on. 
> 
> quick disclaimer: my knowledge of the FBI comes from watching The X-Files and Silence of the Lambs. that's about it. so if i've got any facts wrong... pls suspend ur disbelief and indulge me for the sake of fun. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING for discussion and (brief, not explicit) description of a dead body, and mention of death by drowning.

Newt Geiszler did not like to let other people drive. It wasn’t to say he was a particularly skilled driver — he went too fast and slammed too hard on his brakes — but it was the principle of the thing. Besides, driver got to pick the music, that was a well-established rule.

Hermann, it turned out, also did not like to let other people drive. Newt only managed to get the upper hand by submitting the request for the car first and shoving the keys down the front of his own shirt before Hermann could grab them. Apparently, they weren’t yet at the point where Hermann would bodily tackle him for driving privileges. (Newt suspected it was only a matter of time.)

As it was, Hermann spent the first hour of their drive to Minnow Lake glaring out the window while Newt played Queen’s greatest hits and sang along, loud and off-key. Around the time the CD got to “Seven Seas of Rhye,” Newt side-eyed Hermann and started to feel just a little bit guilty. He had basically forced the guy to tag along, after all — and “against standard protocol,” as Hermann kept reminding him.

Newt reached over to turn down the music to a more tolerable level and said, “Soooo,” while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Hermann startled slightly and shifted to face him, expression guarded. “Why’d you decide to join the Bureau?” Newt asked.

Hermann pursed his lips, considering. “I wanted to use my knowledge to help make people safer, I suppose.”

“Very noble of you,” Newt said. Hermann glared, and Newt backpedaled quickly. “I mean that sincerely! That’s a good reason.”

“Mm,” Hermann said, visibly relaxing. “And yourself?”

“Oh, me? I guess I was just… chasing the next rush, you know? Always liked digging into things, finding out how they tick. It’s like solving a puzzle. I mean, I take my cases seriously, don’t get me wrong — the adrenaline is just a bonus.”

He glanced over at Hermann and found his gaze was discerning, eyes narrowed. “That’s… interesting,” Hermann said. “Though I have to admit, I can’t imagine the cases you trouble yourself with these days get the adrenaline going. Based on the files I’ve sorted through, it’s mostly dead ends and chasing shadows.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Hermann,” Newt laughed. “Anyway, it’s not the rush I’m after with these cases.”

“Is that right? What are you looking for, then?”

Newt side-eyed him again. “The truth,” he said simply.

\--

The closer they got to Minnow Lake, the worse the service on their cell phones became. Newt irritably grabbed his phone from where it rested in the cupholder between them and glanced down at it, causing Hermann to grumble about road safety. Just as Newt suspected, his GPS had given out on him entirely, the digital map blanking out into nothing.

“Piece of shit,” Newt muttered, tossing it back into the cupholder. Hermann, on the other hand, opened the glove compartment and started rummaging around. “What’re you doing?” Newt asked him.

“One moment… they always keep a… aha!” Hermann emerged, triumphant, with a folded paper map in his hand. He waved it in Newt’s face, despite his admonishing literal moments ago for Newt to keep his eyes on the road. “When technology fails, we still have these.”

“What are you bagging on technology for? You have a degree in engineering!” Newt exclaimed. Hermann ignored him, making a show out of unfolding the map. It was enormous and had a slight yellowed look to it. Newt wondered when it had last been pulled from the confines of the glove compartment.

Hermann had put on his dorky librarian glasses, the ones hanging from a chain around his neck. “Now, where exactly are we?” he asked Newt, tracing a finger along the map.

“Uh, I don’t know. The GPS isn’t working.”

Hermann sighed loudly. “Well, look for a landmark!”

“ _You_ look for a landmark! I’m driving!”

After a great deal of shouting and wrestling with the map — which ended in Hermann somehow getting tangled and putting his elbow through it — they pulled over to ask for directions at a diner. As a peace offering, Newt bought them each a milkshake for the road. Hermann didn’t even say thank you, just glared at it like it had done him a personal offense.

He did drink it, though, which Newt counted as a win.

\--

Minnow Lake was… quaint. There wasn’t really another word for. Driving through the main street of town, Newt spotted a couple antique shops, a diner, and a movie theater that looked as though it hadn’t been updated since the mid-80s.

“Well,” Hermann said, as they pulled up in front of the sheriff’s office. “At the very least, I can pick something up for my sister for her birthday while we’re here. She likes a little shop.” They both got out of the car, and Hermann shot Newt a look over the top of it. “That is, of course, if we’re not eaten by a swamp monster.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Newt said, rolling his eyes. Hermann looked amused. It was a nice look on him, Newt thought — better than the perpetual scowl he usually had on, at any rate. Maybe the milkshake had cheered him up after all. “Come on, funny guy. Let’s go chat up the sheriff.”

Sheriff Hercules Hansen looked to be about his mid-forties, and he had both a commanding presence and tired eyes. He jumped up from his desk when Newt and Hermann entered his office, shaking Newt’s hand with a grip so tight it made him wince a bit. “Agent Geiszler, good of you to come down.”

“Sheriff, this is Agent Gottlieb, he’s an analyst with the Bureau,” Newt said. Hermann shook Hansen’s hand. “Where’s that accent from, down under?” Newt added. Hermann shot him a stern look, but Hansen merely chuckled.

“That it is, same as me. Been living here a good eight years now, but can’t shake some things.” His expression quickly turned serious again. “I’ll shoot straight with both of you — I haven’t ever seen anything like this here before. We don’t get serial killers in Minnow Lake, you know what I mean?”

“Sure,” Newt agreed easily. “That’s why I don’t think it’s a serial killer.”

“Agent Geiszler,” Hermann said warningly.

Hansen’s expression fell. “Now listen here. I’m the one who made the call to involve the feds, and I appreciate you coming, but I’m not stupid. You wanna come up with another explanation for the three dead bodies we’ve pulled out of that lake, I’m all ears, but until I’m convinced otherwise, it’s a killer we’re looking for.”

“Agent Geiszler didn’t mean to insinuate anything to the contrary,” Hermann cut in before Newt could respond. “Now, I believe there’s a body for us to examine?”

“Right,” Hansen said, shooting Newt a mistrustful look before gesturing to the door. “The most recent victim, David Borough. Found him yesterday.”

As they followed the sheriff out of the room, Newt elbowed Hermann and hissed, “What gives?”

“You would do well _not_ to go off spouting your crackpot theories to the local law enforcement before we’ve even seen a body,” Hermann replied. Newt begrudgingly had to admit he had a point, but he still elbowed Hermann again for good measure. Hermann thwacked him in the shin with his cane.

\--

The body of David Borough was a mottled greyish color, the result of the time it had spent in the lake before it was recovered. Newt paced around the table, snapping on a pair of latex gloves as he did so. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a recorder, tossing it to Hermann, who was standing a couple feet behind him. He fumbled but managed to catch it with the hand not clutching his cane.

“Helps if I have both hands free,” Newt told him. “Mind holding onto that for me?”

Hermann looked rather green from the moment Hansen first pulled the sheet off the corpse, his lips pressed together like he might vomit otherwise. Newt had almost forgotten that Hermann’s area of expertise revolved around hacking and decoding, analyzing data and looking for little pieces out of place — none of the blood-and-gore cases Newt so often tackled.

“You good?” Newt asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Hermann nodded distractedly and clicked on the recorder. “Of course, of course. Well, it’s recording.”

Newt shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Thanks, Herm — uh, Gottlieb.” He turned to Sheriff Hansen. “What can you tell us?”

“David owned a shop in town. Sold fishing gear. Forty-five years old, lived alone. He has a daughter, she’s at NYU. We’ve already contacted her.” Hansen shook his head, running a hand across his mouth. “Based on our initial examination, same thing happened to him as the last two victims. There’s signs of struggle, death by drowning.”

“And the marks,” Newt said. He thought back to the polaroids he’d seen before, and moved to Borough’s feet. There were several long welts wrapped around the man’s ankle and calf on his right leg. Newt lifted the leg by the foot, bending it at the knee and peering at the welts. “What do you think, sheriff?”

Hansen shook his head. “Obviously caused by something wrapped around the leg, but…”

“But it doesn’t look like a hand,” Newt agreed. “The shapes don’t match fingers. At least not human fingers.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hermann, who scowled at him. “Bring that recorder closer, would you?” he asked innocently. Still glowering, Hermann held the recorder to Newt’s mouth. “Victim has four welts above the right ankle, and five approximately halfway up the calf,” Newt recited. “Welts are about five inches in length, half an inch in width each. Altogether they span about ten inches spread along the leg. If this was a hand, it’s a big one.”

“Any ideas?” Hermann asked.

Newt shrugged, easing the leg back down onto the examination table. “Sure, I’ve got plenty. Not sure you want to hear ‘em, though.”

“Gents, is there something I should be aware of?” Hansen said testily.

Hermann smiled thinly. “Certainly not, sheriff. If I might offer some suggestions?” he added to Newt.

“Oh, by all means,” Newt said, gesturing to the body as if he were presenting a game show contestant with a new car.

Ignoring the blatant sarcasm, Hermann reached over to tuck the recorder in the front pocket of Newt’s shirt before he spoke. “It could be any number of things. A rope or restraint, used to weight or hold the body down. Or perhaps a mark added after the fact as a sort of signature from the killer.”

“Sheriff Hansen,” Newt said suddenly. “Have there been any reports of animals in the lake that could potentially attack a person?”

“What, like a gator or something? Not to my knowledge,” Hansen said. “Nothing in those waters but fish.”  

“Mm,” Newt said, drumming his fingers on the edge of the examination table. “I’d like to see the spot where he was found, if you don’t mind.”

\--

Hansen drove them to the lake in his squad car. It was a large, picturesque body of water, with trees and shrubbery growing along the pebbled shore. The serenity was marred by the police tape lining the area next to where Hansen parked. The three of them got out, and Hansen gestured to the water.

“Found him floating right over there. The only footprints we found over here were his own, so we can assume this is where he was standing when he entered the water.”

Newt walked closer to the taped-off area and beckoned Hermann with a jerk of his head. “Take a look at those,” Newt muttered when Hermann joined him, pointing to the footprints in the muddy ground. Hermann followed his gaze, and let out a soft noise of surprise.

“Well it certainly doesn’t look like he popped into the lake for a quick swim,” Hermann replied, and Newt huffed out a laugh. The footprints turned into something more like shallow trenches as they approached the water’s edge — David Borough had been dragged in. Hermann pulled a digital camera from his jacket and started to snap photos of the scene. Newt glanced up, out over the water, his heart beginning to race as he imagined what might be hiding in its depths. The water shimmered in the afternoon light, flashes of reflected sunlight chasing each other across the murky surface.

And then his eyes moved still further upward to look at the opposite bank. The imposing white walls of the research facility loomed across the lake, a high chain-link fence surrounding its borders. Even from the considerable distance between the two shores, Newt could spot what looked like a security camera on one of the walls, its black lens aiming toward the lake.

“Have you checked in with the folks across the water?” he asked Hansen, not looking away from the security camera.

He heard the sheriff approach from behind. “Of course. David died in the night, sometime between midnight and three a.m. by our best guess. There was no one in the facility after six p.m.”

“They show you the security footage?”

“Sure did. Nothing on there.”

Newt pointed to the camera he was eyeing. “Not even that one?”

Hansen looked where he was pointing. “Nah, nothing. Frankly, I don’t have a reason to suspect their involvement.”

“No?” Newt asked, finally dragging his gaze away so he could look at Hansen with raised eyebrows. “Why’s that?”

Hansen laughed slightly. “They’re over there doing pH tests on the water and poking at frogs under microscopes,” he said. “What motive would they have for killing locals? Besides, the other two victims weren’t found anywhere near this spot or the facility. In fact, the first one was clear across the water.”

Newt hummed. “I’d still like to talk to them, for my own peace of mind,” he said. Hansen held up his hands in a disarming gesture. Newt bumped Hermann with his shoulder, and the other man grunted slightly and fumbled to turn off the camera. “You wanna go? I’ll even let you drive.”

“How generous,” Hermann deadpanned. “But no, I think I’d better not.” At Newt’s confused look, Hermann said, in a slightly uncomfortable and much quieter voice, “I am not a field agent, Geiszler. We’re already pushing our luck. I’m not sure we could justify my presence at the facility.”

“Oh,” Newt said. He could tell Hermann was embarrassed, so he quickly tried to lighten the mood. “Well hey, go get that birthday present for your sister, then. And check into our hotel! I’ll meet up with you after. Maybe scope out a good place for us to grab dinner.” He winked, and Hermann’s nose wrinkled in irritation — success.

“I’ll drive you back to town, then?” Hansen asked.

There was a rustling in the brush behind them before Newt could reply, and all three men whipped around, Newt and Hansen’s hands going to their guns. Emerging from the bushes, looking sheepish and carrying a fishing rod, was a man in his early twenties with a scruffy beard and a fishing hat adorned with hooks and lures. He had a nervous twitchiness about him, his hands clenching compulsively around his fishing rod.

Hansen let out an irritated huff and his posture relaxed. “Tanner. What the hell are you doing over here? You know this is a crime scene.”

“Just fishin’, Herc — Sheriff Hansen,” the man named Tanner said. “These the feds?”

“They are,” Hansen said, narrowing his eyes. “You wouldn’t be snooping around, would you?”

“No!” Tanner yelped. “But… since I’ve got you folks here, might as well tell you I’ve got your case solved.”

“Is that right?” Hansen crossed his arms.

“Yup,” Tanner said. He stood a bit straighter, and focused his attention on Newt and Hermann now. “I’ve seen what’s done it. It’s in the water.”

Newt felt a little thrill go through him, even as he could practically _feel_ Hermann rolling his eyes. “What did you see?”

Tanner’s face paled slightly, and he shot a nervous look at the lake before looking Newt dead in the eye. “I never saw anything like it in my whole life. Like a man and a shark got mixed together. It’s… it’s like something out of your worst nightmares. A monster.”

“I think that’s quite enough,” Hermann interrupted. He put a hand on Newt’s shoulder and gave him a warning glare before fixing a false smile in Tanner’s direction. “Thank you for the information. We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.”

“It’s out there!” Tanner hollered after them. “There’s a monster in this lake, you mark my words!”

\--

“Sorry about that,” Hansen said once they were in his car. “That’s Tanner Green. He’s… a bit screwy, if you catch my drift.” He pulled back out onto the road into town. “He spends a lot of time with my boy. Always filling his head with funny ideas, getting him into trouble.”

Newt, who had been relegated to the backseat, frowned and said, “So you don’t think there’s any truth to what he was saying?”

Hansen let out a startled laugh, eyeballing Newt in the rearview mirror. “You’re not kidding? Agent Geiszler, he said there was a monster in our lake. If that’s not crazy talk, I don’t know what is!”

Hermann was smirking in the passenger seat, and Newt resisted the urge to poke him in the back of the head. “I guess we’ll see,” he said. He drummed his fingers against his window, watching the lake disappear from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: While Newt checks out the research facility across the lake, Hermann tries to do some investigating of his own. 
> 
> as always, comments super appreciated! <3


	3. IT CAME FROM THE DEPTHS, part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann had been flipping through tacky postcards for several minutes when his phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, there was a message from Newt.  
>  _where are u? i might have something big._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens, and i add even more characters from the films into this universe. once again, my endless thanks for the kind words and continued excitement about this fic. it's been a bit since i tackled a big fic project like this, so the hype continues to fuel me. 
> 
> no content warnings for this chapter, just enjoy the fun!

Hermann was reluctant to let Newt out of his sight — he told himself it was because he didn’t trust the man, but the truth was he knew Newt was a skilled investigator. He was merely finding this whole excursion together less… terrible than he’d expected. Nevertheless, he waved Newt off to the research facility across the lake, and headed to their hotel to check in. Two rooms next to each other, each with a queen-sized bed and a nice washroom. Hermann thought about indulging himself in the fancy bubble bath he found in the medicine cabinet, but decided that was unprofessional in the middle of the day. Just because he couldn’t follow Newt around all day, didn’t mean he should just sit around doing nothing. Instead, he headed out onto the main shop-lined street in town. He could find a gift for Karla, and perhaps he could also do a bit of investigating on his own.

He found the most touristy shop on the street — Karla would get a good laugh out of a tacky “Greetings from Minnow Lake” snowglobe — and ducked inside. It was crammed with shelves and rotating racks of knick-knacks and souvenirs. There was a young man behind the counter, on his phone and clearly bored. A sleepy bulldog was resting by the door, and lifted its head curiously at the sound of the bell on the door. Hermann was the only customer in the store. When he passed the cash register, the boy looked up and said, “Welcome to Minnow Lake Gifts,” in a bored tone.

The boy’s voice gave Hermann pause. His accent was distinctly Australian. He recalled Sheriff Hansen mentioning that he had a son — a son who was friends with Tanner Green.

“Pardon me,” Hermann said, turning back to the counter. The boy looked up, clearly annoyed to be interrupted. Hermann’s eyes flickered down to his nametag: _CHUCK_. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Sheriff Hansen, would you?”

“That’s my dad,” Chuck said, wary. “Why? Who’re you?”

“Agent Hermann Gottlieb,” Hermann said, pulling his badge from inside his jacket and holding it up briefly. “I’m here investigating the recent murders at the lake.”

“Oh, right. Dad told me he was calling you people in.” Chuck didn’t sound particularly impressed. His expression was still guarded.

“Yes. I believe I met a friend of yours earlier today,” Hermann said. He’d never had the chance to do this kind of on-the-ground questioning in his work on other cases. He attempted to sound casual. He didn’t think he was doing a very good job, judging by Chuck’s posture. “Tanner Green,” Hermann clarified. “He was by the lake. Does he spend a lot of time there?”

Chuck’s eyes flashed with sudden anger. “What the hell are you trying to imply?”

Hermann schooled his expression into one of utter neutrality. “Nothing, Mr. Hansen. I’m merely curious. Mr. Green claimed that he saw the culprit in the lake, that it’s… some sort of animal.”

“Tanner’s not a liar,” Chuck snapped. “I don’t care what my old man’s told you. He wouldn’t lie to the goddamn FBI!” His voice had raised to a shout, and the dog whined. Chuck’s expression softened slightly and he looked over at the dog guiltily. “It’s alright, Max.”

“I appreciate that you want to defend your friend,” Hermann placated. “But it’s important you don’t let emotion blind you to the truth. Can you think of any reason Mr. Green would create a story about a monster in the lake? Perhaps trying to start an urban legend of sorts to draw in tourists?”

Chuck laughed bitterly. “Not fuckin’ likely. Tanner hates Minnow Lake. He’d be gone already if it weren’t for his mum.”

Hermann perked up at that, and Chuck winced, like he’d realized too late that he’d accidentally given Hermann more fuel for his interrogation. “What about his mother?”

Sighing, Chuck said, “She’s sick, alright? He’s taking care of her. He’s dead miserable, the only thing he likes to do anymore is hang out by the lake, and we can’t even do that now.”

“We?” Hermann repeated.

“We’re friends, we hang out there sometimes together. So what?”

“Have you seen this… creature that he claims to have witnessed? Or anything else suspicious, people in places they shouldn’t be?”

“Tanner’s not a liar,” Chuck repeated evasively. “Listen, mate, are you gonna buy something or are you just gonna keep harassing me, huh? I’m trying to work here.”

Hermann bit back a sarcastic comment about how _bustling_ with customers the store clearly was. Instead, he took a step back from the counter and inclined his head. “I appreciate your help, Mr. Hansen.”

“Whatever.” Chuck returned to his phone, shoulders hunched towards his ears. Hermann stepped away, mindlessly looking through the racks of souvenirs as he turned over this latest bit of information. It wasn’t much, but it certainly added a new dimension to Tanner Green’s claims.

He’d been flipping through tacky postcards for several minutes when his phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, there was a message from Newt.

_where are u? i might have something big._

\--

Newt parked several feet from the front gate of the research facility. As he walked up, he could see a security guard standing at the gate’s entrance and eyeing him suspiciously. He could also see a sign that hadn’t been visible from across the lake: the front of the building proclaimed that it was owned by —

“ _Shao Industries_?” Newt exclaimed aloud, incredulous. “This place is owned by Shao Industries?” He directed the question half to himself and half to the guard he was now standing almost directly in front of.

“Can I help you, pal?” the guard asked stiffly.

“Oh, right.” Newt pulled out his badge. “Newt Geiszler, FBI. I’m hoping there’s someone here I can talk to about the recent deaths in the lake?”

The guard nodded. “Just a minute.” He stepped a few paces away from Newt and pulled a walkie from his utility belt. “There’s a federal agent here asking about the lake deaths.” A pause, words Newt couldn’t quite make out. “Yep. Alright, will do. Thanks.” The man put the walkie away and stepped back over to Newt. “Ms. Shao will speak with you.”

Newt’s eyes bugged. “Liwen Shao is _here_?”

The guard just nodded, opening the gate and waving Newt forward before following him into the building.

Newt had heard of Liwen Shao. Of _course_ he had. She was the head of one of the most talked-about drone engineering startups in China. Her company had grown quickly in the few years since its creation, and Shao had procured various facilities around the world. Newt hadn’t known one of them was in _Minnow Lake_ , of all places. Shao Industries definitely wasn’t the owner of this facility twenty years ago, when Abigail Dumont had been murdered. This was throwing Newt’s theory for a loop, and he was equal parts eager and wary as he stepped into the front lobby.

It didn’t take long for Liwen Shao herself to appear. She looked just as she did in the television interview clips Newt had watched, put together and stunningly beautiful. She was taller than him, and her expression reminded him of Hermann’s — devastating in its neutrality.

“Ms. Shao,” Newt said, sticking out his hand. “Newt Geiszler. I’m with the Bureau.”

Shao did not take his hand. “Yes,” she said. “We’ve already spoken with the local authorities about the deaths. I was not aware the issue was under federal investigation.”

“Yeaaaah, suspected serial killings tend to go to us,” Newt said, grinning. Shao said nothing. “Anyway, I wanted to check things out myself — I’m particular like that. I gotta admit, I had no idea you were the one running this place. What’s that about?”

“The research being conducted at this location in years past was of interest to me,” Shao said. “The original team of scientists long since abandoned the project, so I decided to acquire it for myself.”

“Bit out of your usual scope, isn’t it?” Newt asked, gesturing around the building. “I thought Shao Industries specialized in drone development.”

“We do,” Shao said. Newt waited, but she did not elaborate. She was looking at him like she couldn’t quite believe he was actually standing in her lobby and wasting her time.

“Right. So about the murders. I couldn’t help but notice you’ve got some security cameras outside your building. One of them faces the lake, and I’m sure you’re aware the most recent death occurred directly across the water from here.”

“I was not aware of the exact location,” Shao said. “Our security team did not see anything on the tapes from that night.”

She seemed so quick to shut down his line of thinking — was she merely eager to get back to her work, or did she have something to hide? Newt smiled at her again, getting the same obnoxious delight in her irritation that he got from riling up Hermann. “You wouldn’t mind showing me the tapes anyway, would you?”

Shao locked eyes with the security guard standing beside Newt, and some brief, silent communication passed between them. “Of course,” she said. “Get the security footage from last night ready for Agent — what did you say your name was?”

“Geiszler,” Newt said. “I appreciate it.”

“Anything we can do to help,” Shao said, nodding. She watched the guard as he walked quickly down a hallway and out of sight. “Agent Geiszler, you seem interested in the work we do here. Would you like a tour of the facility?”

Newt’s eyebrows shot up. Okay, this lady was definitely hiding something. A second ago she looked like she couldn’t wait to get him out of her hair. Now she wanted to keep him away from that security footage as long as possible. Which was unfortunate, because he really _was_ curious, and any other time he’d have jumped at the chance to dig into this place a little more. “Just the footage will do for me, thanks,” he said.

Shao led him down the hall and into a room full of computer screens cutting between the various cameras throughout the interior and exterior of the building. Newt watched the images flicker past, wishing he had a better photographic memory. He’d bet money Hermann had one of those. He’d have to ask him later.

The security guard was sitting at a different computer, with footage from the camera Newt had pointed out pulled up on the screen. “This is from last night,” the guard said. He clicked a button and the footage started playing at ten times speed.

“Slow it down around midnight,” Newt said, putting a hand on the back of the man’s chair and leaning forward. He could feel Shao’s eyes on his back, and she stepped closer to watch alongside him. When the footage got to midnight, the guard clicked a few times and the footage slowed to five times speed. Newt watched carefully. The lake rippled occasionally. An owl landed on a tree and then flew off again. There was no sign of any monster in the lake. What’s more, there was no sign of David Borough. By all accounts, he should have been in frame. Unless the body had floated in from another area of the lake… but how to account for the footprints in the mud?

“As I told you and the sheriff, Agent Geiszler,” Shao said, when the footage got to five in the morning, “we saw no unusual activity last night.”

“Seems that way,” Newt agreed, leaning back. “Could I grab a copy of this tape from you? I want to run it by my analyst. Maybe there’s something we’re not seeing.” He couldn’t help the challenge in his tone, and there was no question that Shao heard it. Her posture, if possible, got even stiffer.

“Certainly,” she said. Without breaking eye contact with Newt, she told the guard, “Make a copy of the tape for Agent Geiszler.”

The guard clicked around on the computer a couple more times and a few moments later handed Newt a jewel case with a blank CD inside. Newt tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” he said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Let us know if there’s anything else we can do to assist,” Shao said, already ushering him toward the door.

“I’ll be in touch,” Newt promised.

Shao’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you will.”

As soon as he was outside the facility, Newt pulled out his phone and texted Hermann. Hermann said he was in some gift shop, and Newt drove (a little recklessly) back into town to meet him.

The shop Hermann had chosen was horrendously tacky — Newt’s favorite kind, but not where he’d have expected Hermann to go. He also didn’t expect Hermann to have purchased a _snowglobe_. Hermann was holding it a little awkwardly when Newt entered the shop.

“Gottlieb, you are full of surprises,” Newt told him, snatching the snowglobe out of his hand and shaking it to watch the little snowflakes fall around the tiny fishing scene. “This is precious. I’m getting one. We can have matching snowglobes on our desks back at the office.”

“Give that back,” Hermann groused, grabbing it and clutching it protectively to his chest. “It’s for my sister. And might I remind you we still only have _one_ desk.”

“Only need one snowglobe, then,” Newt shrugged. At Hermann’s withering look, he laughed and added, “Joking, dude. I meant it when I said we’d get another desk in there.” He looked around the shop and noticed a hideous purple shirt that said in blocky white letters: _I went to Minnow Lake and all I got was this stupid T-shirt_. It was awful. Newt had to have it.

As Newt made his way over to the shirt rack, he also noticed that the cashier was giving them both some serious stink-eye. He turned to Hermann, who was following Newt and grumbling to himself about the snowglobe and their office space and various other complaints Newt had mostly tuned out. “What’s the deal with the angsty teen over there?” Newt whispered.

“Ah,” Hermann said, glancing over his shoulder. “That’s the sheriff’s son. He didn’t appreciate my questioning him.”

“Aww, Hermann, were you making friends without me?” Newt teased. “You’ll have to fill me in back at the hotel.”

“Speaking of, I thought you had something ‘big’ to share with me,” Hermann said. He eyed the shirt Newt was now holding up to his own chest. “I understand your souvenir shopping is a pressing matter, but…”

Newt resisted the urge to make a face at him. He did, however, buy the shirt.

\--

At the hotel, Newt invited himself into Hermann’s room and thrust a CD into his hands. “Security footage,” he explained, already wandering over to the bed and sitting on it, bouncing slightly. “Oh, the beds are nice here.”

Hermann pinched the bridge of his nose before crossing to the small desk and opening his laptop, inserting the disk into the drive. “Geiszler. Focus.”

“Right. Well I’m positive they’re hiding something. D’you know who owns that building now, by the way? Liwen _fucking_ Shao.”

“Shao?” Hermann repeated, turning in his chair to gape at Newt for a moment. “That’s…”

“Completely bonkers? Yeah, I know. She was there. And she _definitely_ didn’t like me snooping around. Anyway, I already saw the footage at the facility, but I’m hoping you can find something in there with your special eyes. Do you have a photographic memory, by the way? I’ve been wondering.”

Hermann was already ignoring him, putting on his glasses and watching the screen intently. He heard Newt shifting around on the bed a bit more, and then getting up to pace around the room. He hovered behind Hermann’s shoulder a few times, but seemed to grow impatient quickly and resumed his wandering around the hotel room.

It took him twenty minutes, but then something caught his eye. “Come look at this,” he called, glancing over his shoulder. Newt immediately stopped pacing and hurried to Hermann’s side. “Watch this,” Hermann said. He clicked play on the footage, starting at what was timestamped as 1:27:32. The footage played for a few seconds, and then Hermann paused it again. “See?” he said triumphantly.

Newt was staring at the still image blankly. “Um… what am I supposed to be seeing?”

Hermann sighed. “Watch again.” He rewound the footage. “The timestamp down here doesn’t show any jumps or cuts, but watch this area of the screen.” He tapped the bottom left corner. Together they watched it play again. A fox was creeping across the ground by the treeline in the corner Hermann had indicated. The first couple of seconds that the footage played, it continued its slow pace, but then —

“Whoa! What just happened there?” Newt exclaimed.

The fox was suddenly halfway across the screen, scampering away and out of sight. It looked as though it had teleported. Hermann hit pause. “Someone’s doctored this footage,” he said. “They did a remarkably good job, fixed the timestamp and everything. But they missed this.” He drummed a finger against the screen, where the fox now stood frozen. “Based on its rate of movement, I’d say anywhere from two to five minutes of footage has been removed.”

“Holy shit,” Newt breathed. He leaned in close, his shoulder bumping against Hermann’s, and squinted at the screen. A smile flitted across his face, and he turned to look at Hermann with unabashed glee. Their noses practically bumped together. “I was right! Ha!”

Hermann, startled by the sudden closeness, leaned back a little. He was aware that he probably looked like a turtle retreating into its shell. “Yes,” he said awkwardly. Newt was still beaming at him. “Whatever happened to David Borough almost certainly happened within those missing minutes. And it’s something Liwen Shao doesn’t want us to see.”

Newt started snickering. He finally shifted back out of Hermann’s personal space, leaning against the desk and shaking his head.

Hermann frowned at him. “What is it?”

“Oh, Hermann. Oh man, you’re gonna hate this.” Newt’s tone became conspiratorial. “How do you feel about doing a little stakeout?”

Hermann resisted the urge to knock his forehead against the desk, but it was a very near thing. “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: Newt and Hermann search for answers on the water. Newt rents a rowboat. Hermann confronts the unknown. 
> 
> not to toot my own horn, but the next chapter is my favorite i've written so far. get hype. 
> 
> comments appreciated as always! see y'all next friday. <3


	4. IT CAME FROM THE DEPTHS, part four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you know what you’re doing?” Hermann asked skeptically.  
> “Absolutely. One hundred percent.” Newt dunked the end of an oar into the water. “Uh, you want one?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything happens so much. if you've been sticking around this far, thank you so much for reading and leaving such nice comments! i really hope you'll enjoy this chapter, it's the longest one yet and a LOT happens. i was gonna split it up, but i decided to just give it all to you at once. you're welcome! 
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS for more mentions of drowning and also some drowning-related peril. (no deaths though!)

Newt went to Sheriff Hansen to show him the tampered-with footage, and was quick to secure a small boat for himself and Hermann to use that night. The charming little rowboat came from none other than the late David Borough’s fishing shop, which Hermann deemed “rather irreverent.” They didn’t head down to the water until midnight — all three of the deaths had occurred sometime in the middle of the night, so it seemed the prime time to witness anything incriminating.

When Newt parked their car, his eye caught something by the shore that made him pause before cutting the engine. He tapped Hermann’s arm. “You see that?”

Illuminated by the headlights, a figure was sitting in what appeared to be a cheap folding lounge chair by the edge of the lake, mere feet away from the police tape. Whoever they were, they didn’t move at all. Newt held a finger to his lips and nodded to the flashlight sitting in the cupholder between them. Hermann took it, frowning. Newt turned off the car and got out, drawing his gun and motioning for Hermann to follow behind him. When they were about three feet behind the chair, Hermann clicked on the flashlight and shone it directly on the figure as Newt said, “Hey!”

The person in the chair was Tanner Green, and until a moment ago he had been sound asleep. At Newt’s shout, he flailed and knocked his chair sideways, falling into the dirt. He scrambled to his feet, squinting and lifting his hands in surrender. As soon as Newt saw who it was, he rolled his eyes and holstered his gun.

“Whatcha doing out here in the middle of the night, bud?” Newt said, crossing his arms. Hermann lowered the flashlight so it was no longer blinding Tanner, and the young man hesitantly put down his hands again.

“Staking out,” Tanner said, indignant. “Next time the monster attacks, I’m gonna be ready. I have a camera.” He fumbled in his jacket pocket to reveal a cheap disposable camera.

“You do realize that this is a crime scene?” Hermann said. “I believe we can take care of the staking out, Mr. Green.”

“You people didn’t take me seriously, I don’t trust you for shit!” Tanner exclaimed.

Newt sighed, taking another step forward to rest his hand on Tanner’s shoulder. Tanner flinched, eyeing Newt warily. “Listen. I am taking you seriously, alright?” Newt said. “I believe you. But you gotta let us do our job now. It’s safer for you to go home.”

Tanner’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, alright.” He bent down to clumsily fold his lounge chair, tucking it under one arm. “Um… good luck.” He threw off a salute before scampering away, back toward the road.

Newt watched him go, shaking his head ruefully. He turned to see Hermann watching him with a strange look on his face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Hermann said quickly. He turned off the flashlight. “Well. Let’s get on with it.”

Hermann, for all his bluster about professionalism and doing their proper duty as federal agents, was downright _pissy_ as they manuevered the rowboat into the water. He was wearing a parka that was completely unnecessary for the mild autumn night air — it was also too big for him, his hands disappearing beneath the sleeves. Newt held the boat in place while Hermann gracelessly climbed in, resting his cane by his feet and then wincing as Newt hoisted himself in and sat on the other little bench. Newt scooped up the oars and eyed them critically.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Hermann asked skeptically.

“Absolutely. One hundred percent.” Newt dunked the end of an oar into the water. “Uh, you want one?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Hermann took the proffered oar and they made slow progress a little further into the lake. It was painfully slow going, and Hermann groused the entire time that Newt was doing a horrible job, honestly what was he _thinking_ , he should just give Hermann the bloody oar already — which only made Newt stubbornly cling to his ineffectual oar even more.

“What, _precisely_ , are you expecting to find out here, Geiszler?” Hermann asked. “I find it highly unlikely that another murder would take place so soon after the last, it doesn’t fall in line with the pattern of the previous deaths.”

“I don’t think there’s a pattern, necessarily,” Newt said, dredging his oar through the water. “I’ve already told you I don’t think we’re looking for a serial killer.”

“I’m well aware of what you think,” Hermann said waspishly. “I’m merely trying to bring _some_ logic and effective deduction into this… this _monster-hunt_ you seem so set on.”

Newt thwapped the oar against the surface of the lake, just to be contrary.

“Why would you rent a rowboat if you don’t know how to row?” Hermann demanded.

“I _know_ how to row,” Newt replied. He didn’t, obviously, but he wasn’t going to just take all this nagging lying down. “I’m getting my bearings, alright? I’ve got this, dude.”

An odd noise distracted them both from their bickering. It sounded like a plunger being pulled out of a toilet, right next to the boat on Newt’s side. The soft sounds of the evening around them suddenly felt muffled. Newt leaned over the edge of the boat, squinting into the water. They’d brought the flashlight, a big clunky one, but it was sitting in Hermann’s lap.

“Did you —” Newt started to ask, and then something yanked his oar sharply downwards. Newt wasn’t sure why he didn’t just let go, but his instinctive reaction was to hang on — which meant that he went immediately overboard. He let out a yelp and heard Hermann shout his name before his head was below the surface, and everything was cold, wet, and dark.

Something had a hold on his arm. He jerked back, his free hand balled into a fist that he aimed hopelessly in the direction of his attacker. After a brief struggle, his fist connected with — he was too rattled to process _what_ it was, only that it let him go.

Gasping, Newt crested the water. Hermann reached out over the side of the boat, shouting something Newt couldn’t hear over his own splashing, and after a brief struggle Hermann hauled him into the rowboat again. He landed with a wet _thump_ flat on his back, wheezing for air.

“Shit,” he managed eventually. He couldn’t have been under the water for long, but he still felt shaken and short of breath. He sat up to see Hermann was shucking off his parka, wrapping it around Newt’s shoulders before he could protest. “C’mon, man, you don’t have to —”

“You’ll catch your death,” Hermann said shortly. He wore a pinched, anxious expression that Newt couldn’t quite decipher. “Are you — are you alright?”

“I think so,” Newt said. His glasses were streaked with water, but it was a miracle he’d managed to keep them on at all. Hermann’s parka held enough residual body heat to be a comfort, and Newt pulled the edges tighter around himself. “Still breathing, anyway.”

“What _was_ it?” Hermann asked. “Some kind of animal? I didn’t think alligators and the like were in the habit of just letting their prey go.” He peered cautiously over the side, but the water was dark and quiet. The ripples from Newt’s thrashing were dissipating, leaving an almost unsettling stillness. Somewhere on the shore, cicadas hummed.

“I couldn’t see shit down there in the dark,” Newt said. “But… it grabbed me, Hermann. With a hand.”

“A hand?” Hermann repeated, eyebrows shooting up. “You mean to say there’s a person in there? Why haven’t they come up for air?”

Newt shook his head slowly. “I don’t think it was a person. Hear me out!” he added, catching the look on Hermann’s face, his incredulity obvious even in the moonlight. “It touched my arm, and it felt, I don’t know, rubbery. _Webbed_.”

“Oh for the love of — what are you saying, the creature from the black lagoon tried to drown you?” Hermann huffed. The bite in his words trailed off towards the end, fading into something more like distress.

Newt frowned. “I’m just telling you what I felt.”

“I know,” Hermann said, quieter. He ran a hand over his face. “I just — for a moment there, I thought you were dead, Newton.”

“Oh,” Newt said, taken aback both by the use of his first name and the tone of Hermann’s voice. He reached a clammy hand over to touch Hermann’s knee. “Hey, man…”

There was another splash, and they both startled, whipping around to look for the source. Hermann fumbled to click on the flashlight, pointing it outwards. The beam threw a wide circle of murky water into view, and Hermann aimed it in an arc around them. Newt rubbed uselessly at his spotty lenses.

Hermann clutched his arm through the parka, his fingers tightening in a vice-like grip. “There!” he hissed. The flashlight was trained on a rippling path cutting through the water some twenty feet away, moving straight for them at a startlingly rapid pace.

“Can you see what it is?” Newt asked, squinting desperately.

“No, I can’t see a bloody thing, it’s still below the surface,” Hermann said. He glanced at their lone oar, now leaning against the inside of the boat. Before either of them could say anything, whatever was under the water rammed against the boat, rocking it hard enough to send them both sprawling back. “Geiszler,” Hermann said urgently. “We need to get back to the shore, it’s going to tip the —”

The thing in the water slammed into the side again and the rowboat pitched sideways, sending Newt into the lake for the second time that night, Hermann tumbling in with him.

\--

Hermann was enveloped by water, chilling him to his very bones almost at once. He struggled to push past the shock of it, but the water was dark and disorienting and he couldn’t tell which way was up. He started to swim blindly in one direction, but then something grabbed his bad leg and _pulled_. His reflexive shout of pain flooded his mouth with water, and he gagged, choking on it. For a brief moment his mind was nothing but sheer panic.

_No,_ he told himself furiously. _You are not drowning in this godforsaken lake._ He used his free leg to kick down, hard, at the thing holding him. Whatever it was did feel rather rubbery, amphibious almost, and he was surprised at how quickly it released him. It pushed away from him, and the motion was enough to propel him upward. As soon as his head was above water he spit out mouthfuls of dirty sludge, sucking in air through burning lungs.

“Geiszler!” he shouted, turning in a circle in the water. He spotted their boat, flipped upside down, and then just beyond it, treading water and looking around frantically, he saw Newt. His partner stopped moving at the sound of Hermann’s voice and turned toward him.

“Move your ass!” Newt called to him. Hermann scowled, but Newt did have a point; he swam as fast as he could in Newt’s wake, all the while expecting something to yank him back into the depths. To his surprise, nothing did, and before long he and Newt were dragging themselves onto the shore. Newt hoisted Hermann to his feet, and Hermann leaned heavily against him for a moment. They were soaked to the bone and streaked with grime.

“Are you okay?” Newt asked. “How’s your leg? Shit, your cane...”

Hermann put his weight on his leg experimentally, wincing. “It’s fine,” he said. “I have a spare in the trunk of the car.” He coughed, spitting up another mouthful of water. He cut his eyes to Newt and frowned. “Where’s my coat?”

Newt had the decency to look guilty. “Somewhere at the bottom of the lake, I’d imagine,” he said. “That thing is a million pounds when it’s wet, dude, it was weighing me down. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Hermann sighed and leaned away so he could wring out the front of his sopping wet shirt. “Did you see whatever it was this time?”

“Nah,” Newt said. “Did you?”

“No, but it tried to grab me,” Hermann said slowly. “I kicked it in the face, I think. It felt… not human, just as you described.”

“Yeah? So what do you think it was?” Newt asked eagerly.

As Hermann opened his mouth to answer, the sheer absurdity of the whole night hit him at once, and he started to laugh instead. Newt looked startled. “I have no idea,” he told Newt through his chuckling. He felt borderline hysterical. “Not a bloody clue.”

Newt started to grin, and then he was laughing, too. He slung an arm around Hermann’s shoulders, hugging him to his side. They stood there, dripping, cold, and exhausted, laughing in the face of the dark unknown before them.

\--

Hermann made an executive decision for both of them that they would visit the sheriff first thing in the morning to inform him about their experience. _What_ exactly they would tell him, Hermann hadn’t quite figured out yet, but it was edging towards two in the morning, and the only thing on his mind was a hot shower and the warm bed in his hotel room. Whatever… _thing_ was lurking in the water surely wasn’t going to do any more harm tonight, so he felt justified in a few hours of rest.

He’d be lying if he said the experience hadn’t left him rattled, however — which perhaps explained why when Newt, standing awkwardly by Hermann’s hotel room door, asked, “After we shower and whatever, can I come back in here for a bit?” Hermann immediately agreed.

In the shower, Hermann sat precariously on the edge of the tub and took a moment to breathe, the steam relaxing his aching muscles. His leg was still throbbing from being yanked under the water. As he looked down at it, he noticed faint red marks around his ankle. Nowhere near as severe as the welts on David Borough’s corpse, but the length and shape of the marks were nearly identical. Shuddering despite the warmth of the shower, Hermann got to his feet and finished washing up quickly after that.

He had only just put on his pajamas and a striped bathrobe when there was a knock on his door. “Who is it?” he called, shuffling through his suitcase to find his slippers.

“Bigfoot,” Newt’s voice called from the other side. Hermann huffed out a laugh, grateful that Newt couldn’t see his reaction, and then padded over to unlock the door.

Newt was standing barefoot outside his hotel room, wearing an oversized black T-shirt that said _SELF-MADE MAN_ in big letters across the front, and basketball shorts that ended a few inches above the knee. His hair was still shower-damp, and he was no longer streaked with muck from the lake. He grinned at Hermann as he walked into the room, flopping down onto the bed with a loud sigh.

Hermann couldn’t help but notice the tattoo peeking out from the end of Newt’s shorts, curling around his thigh and trailing past his knee to the top of his calf. He didn’t tear his gaze away quickly enough, and Newt sat up with a knowing look on his face.

“Admiring the ink?” he asked. Hermann mumbled an apology, face reddening, but Newt merely stood and hoisted the leg of his shorts up a little higher to reveal some sort of monstrous octopus extending down from his thigh. “Cthulhu,” Newt explained. “Goes with the theme up top.” Hermann had never really looked closely at Newt’s sleeves before, but he now noticed that they were made up of illustrations of various monsters from mythology and folktales.

“They’re very…” Hermann pursed his lips. “Detailed.”

Newt chuckled. “It’s okay, you don’t have to like ‘em.” He sat cross-legged on the bed again, and Hermann followed suit, taking a moment to arrange his leg comfortably and then leaning back against the headboard.

“Have you always been interested in this sort of thing, then?” Hermann asked belatedly.

“What, monsters and paranormal shit?” Newt replied. Hermann nodded. “I mean, not _always_. But since I was pretty young, yeah.”

“Is there a story there?”

“There is,” Newt said carefully. “I don’t know if I should tell you. Most people look at me like I’m crazy afterwards.”

“If it helps,” Hermann deadpanned, “I’m probably going to look at you like you’re crazy regardless.”

Newt barked out a laugh, like he was startled that Hermann knew how to make jokes. “Okay, fair point,” he said. “One tragic backstory, coming right up. So, my parents weren’t married when they had me. Or, they were, but not to each other.” At Hermann’s expression, he smiled wryly. “Yeah, I was kind of an oopsie. They did their best with the situation, y’know — tried to make sure I spent equal time with each of them. I was eight, staying with my mom, and she’d been acting… off. It’d been a while since I’d seen her. She was an opera singer, and she’d apparently been really busy with work.”

“Your mother’s an opera singer?” Hermann interjected.

“Yup. You can thank her for my flair for the dramatic, according to my dad,” Newt said. “Anyway, like I said, she’d been acting weird. Kept looking out the windows, checking the locks on the door. She was divorced by that time, so it was just us two in the house. One night I’m watching TV in her living room, and she comes out of the bedroom with a suitcase. Tells me she has to go somewhere for a little bit, but she’d be back in time for dinner.”

Hermann didn’t like where this story was going. “You were eight years old and she was leaving you home alone and not telling you where she was going.”

“Happened more often than you’d think,” Newt said. “That’s not what freaked me out. She seemed — scared. And then, um.” He paused, looking at his lap and twisting his fingers together. “There was this light, outside the window. Like someone was shining a floodlight into the room. Mom screamed, and I couldn’t… it was like I was paralyzed, just sitting there on the floor. The window — it was one of those big picture windows, and it suddenly just blew open and something came into the house.”

“Some _thing_?” Hermann repeated.

“I couldn’t see it clearly. Like I said, there was all that light in the room, and I couldn’t move. That’s when I passed out. When I woke up, I was on the floor and my mother was gone.”  

Hermann had never heard Newt’s voice so serious. “What did you do?” he asked quietly.

“I called my dad and told him mom had been abducted.” Newt laughed humorlessly. “You can imagine how he responded to that. He called the police but they didn’t see any reason to file a missing person report. She’d packed a bag. They said she was probably skipping town. She was always — flighty, I guess.”

“You told them about the intruder?”

“I told them an extraterrestrial being came through the window and beamed my mother up, yeah,” Newt said. “And they told me I came up with the story to cope with the trauma of my mom running off on me. But I know what I saw.” He looked up to meet Hermann’s eyes, and his expression finally grew less grim. “Aaaand here’s the part where you tell me I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Hermann said slowly. “I think you went through something very traumatic, Newton. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Got me here, anyway.” His demeanor abruptly changed back to the teasing that Hermann had grown used to, and he leaned forward to poke Hermann in the arm. “What about you, huh?”

“Me?” Hermann repeated, startled.

“Yeah, man. There’s gotta be a reason you decided to come all the way to the States, and I don’t want the bullshit answer you gave me earlier.”

“That wasn’t bullshit,” Hermann protested. “But I supposed there is more to it than that. I was just trying to get as far from my father as possible. My first choice was leaving the planet, but… well. I was in a car accident in university and my left leg was shattered. They did their best to repair it, but it didn’t matter. My chances of being an astronaut were gone.”

“Shit,” Newt said, grimacing. “That’s heavy. I’m sorry, man. I wondered, but… I mean, it’s none of my business.”

“Well, now you know.” It was odd, being this open with someone about that part of his life. He hadn’t told many people at the Bureau — in fact, Tendo was the only one who knew the full story. He wasn’t going to tell Newt _everything_ , not now, but even sharing what he had was more than he ever expected to do. He should have felt uncomfortable, in the wake of what had happened to them and this impromptu heart-to-heart, but somehow he didn’t. Hermann picked at a loose thread in his robe, and then found himself saying, “Newton… why did you ask me to come with you?”

Newt’s lips quirked up in a curious smile. “Hm? Oh, I don’t know. I like you, I guess.”

Hermann snorted. “You don’t like me. You can’t stand me.”

Sitting up a little straighter, Newt cleared his throat and recited, “‘When looking up at the vastness of our universe, it is easy to feel impossibly dwarfed by that which we cannot understand. But at its core, everything we imagine to be incomprehensible can be broken down into numbers, and it is there we find truth. Nothing is outside our realm of understanding, merely temporarily out of reach.’ Hell of a closer for a mathematics dissertation.” He grinned. “I mean, I don’t even _like_ math and you had me sold. I dig _that_ Hermann Gottlieb, waxing poetic about the universe.”

Hermann stared at Newt, slack-jawed. “You… memorized the conclusion of my dissertation?”

“Like I said, it was good writing,” Newt said, as if it was no big deal that he had put more thought and care into reading the words Hermann wrote years ago than Hermann’s own father had done when Hermann earned his doctorate. Hermann knew that Newt looked at the world differently than most — he just hadn’t expected that would also apply to him. A funny, warm feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, and stayed there long after the conversation shifted.

\--

Newt woke up to the sensation of falling, a second later found himself sprawled on the hotel room floor with his face mashed into the carpet. With a muffled half-groan, half-laugh, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the off-white popcorn ceiling. The events of the night before came back to him in a rush, and he grinned stupidly to himself. He fucking loved being _right_ ; he couldn’t wait to confront Shao again, demand to see the undoctored footage, see whatever creature had been dumped into the lake —

A snuffling from the bed derailed Newt’s train of thought when he remembered he wasn’t in _his_ hotel room — he was in Hermann’s. He sat up and peered over the edge of the bed. Hermann was sprawled on top of the covers, snoring slightly with his face pressed into the pillow. They’d talked so late into the night that they’d both conked out right there in the middle of their conversation. Newt huffed out a quiet laugh, and then, in a fit of thoughtfulness, he decided to get coffee for the two of them before jostling Hermann awake so they could go to the sheriff. He remembered seeing that the front office of the hotel had free coffee in the mornings. Newt hadn’t brought his shoes when he’d come to Hermann’s room the night before, so he shrugged and borrowed Hermann’s slippers, which were kicked off at the foot of the bed. He’d probably be annoyed when he found out, but Newt would have a peace offering by then.

He shuffled out of the hotel room, squinting in the sunlight as he made his way across the parking lot to the front office. It was early, and the whole place was quiet except for morning birdsong. And — abruptly — the sound of tires squealing against asphalt as a beat-up truck pulled into the parking lot, the driver clambering out almost immediately and making a beeline for Newt. It took him a moment, but he recognized the cashier from the souvenir shop Hermann had been lurking in the day before. Hermann had given him a few sparse details about his attempt at an interrogation: the kid’s name was Chuck, Newt remembered that much.

“Oi!” Chuck said as he got closer. “You’re one of the feds, yeah?”

“Yes?” Newt said, frowning.

“What’s the point of you being here? I thought you were supposed to be catching whoever’s behind all this, but you didn’t do shit!” Chuck looked distraught. He looked angry. He looked… terrified.

Newt’s eyes widened. “Did something happen? Fuck, did someone else die?”

Chuck laughed hollowly. “No. It’s… it’s Tanner.”

“Tanner?” Newt repeated. “What about him?”

“He’s in my dad’s office right now,” Chuck said. “He turned himself in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: Newt tries to prove Tanner’s innocence. Hermann must decide what to believe. 
> 
>  
> 
> some notes! newt's pajama shirt was 100% inspired by the wonderful alois, who did [this drawing of newt](https://twitter.com/callmealois/status/1056004112536559616) that i think about every single day of my life. also, in re: hermann's dissertation, i know absolutely nothing about math, but let's say the "applied" part of his doctorate in applied mathematics had something to do with space exploration. 
> 
> this is the last chapter i had prepped, so updates might get a liiiittle less frequent, but i'll try my best to keep up the weekly schedule! comments super appreciated as always!!! ok bye


	5. IT CAME FROM THE DEPTHS, part five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not asking you for the most logical answer, I’m asking for what makes the most sense,” Newt said.  
> Hermann frowned. “They’re the same thing.”  
> “Not always,” Newt insisted. “Not this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your patience as this chapter is going up later than usual! between work and grad school and getting sick recently, it's been a little harder to keep up the writing pace i had going before. i hope this chapter being on the longer side makes up for it! 
> 
> as we're getting to the end of this arc, i want to point out for those of u who know the x-files that this particular case has been inspired by a few of my favorite episodes: mostly 3x22 "quagmire" and also, as you'll see in this chapter, 1x02 "deep throat." i'm sure you'll be able to see the influences if you're familiar with the episodes! 
> 
> no warnings in this one i don't think, let me know if there's ever anything you'd like me to warn for!

Newt scrambled to get dressed before launching himself back out of his hotel room and getting into Chuck’s passenger seat. During the short drive to the sheriff’s office, Chuck radiated tension and white-knuckled anger. He didn’t speak until he pulled up in front of the building, when he turned to Newt and said, in a low voice, “He didn’t do it.”

“Yeah, I — I need to talk to him,” Newt said, running a hand over his mouth. He climbed out of the truck and burst into the sheriff’s office without preamble. Herc Hansen was standing in the front lobby speaking to a couple other officers, and his eyebrows shot up when he saw Newt striding into the room, Chuck hot on his heels.

“Agent Geiszler,” Hansen said evenly. “Morning. My son told you the news, did he?”

“Where’s Tanner?” Newt said, trying to peer around Hansen’s shoulder as if he was hiding the man behind his back.

“Agent Geiszler,” Hansen said again, taking a firm step back to put space between them. “Tanner Green is in a holding cell at the moment, and that’s where he’s going to stay until he’s tried for murder.”

“Sheriff, you don’t understand,” Newt said. “I was out there on the water last night, and whatever’s been attacking people, it sure as hell wasn’t that kid.” He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, where faint red marks still remained around his arm. “It _grabbed_ me, see? Does that look like Tanner’s handprint to you?”

Hansen was unfazed. “He told us how he did it. Scuba gear, the whole nine yards. Found everything in the trunk of his car this morning when he came in. It all checks out.”

“But the marks —”

“He was wearing gloves.”

Newt let out a single, hollow laugh. “Gloves,” he repeated. He shook his head. “Something’s not right. What about the footage from Shao? You don’t find it weird that a powerful tech developer is sitting across the water and doctoring security footage?”

“Sure it’s weird, but it doesn’t prove anything. To be perfectly honest with you, I’m not fully convinced that footage was doctored at all.” Hansen crossed his arms.

“Hermann said —”

The sheriff remained firm. “I don’t give a damn what he said. All the evidence points to Green, and we’ve got a bloody confession. What more do you want? A _lake monster_?”

Ignoring the jab, Newt stood his ground. “If you could just let me speak with him…”

Something shifted in Hansen’s expression, and his gruff but tolerant demeanor hardened into something far sterner. “Geiszler, we caught our killer. Your help was appreciated, but we can take it from here. I’d head back to Washington if I were you.”

Hansen was tall, six feet at least, and he was using every inch he had on Newt to his advantage now. Newt was more than used to guys like Hansen looming over him, trying to assert something, and usually he’d scoff and shove his way past anyway, but he could tell when his usual methods would cause more trouble for him than they were worth. Because he got it — he understood why Hansen was ready to believe that Tanner Green was the culprit, lock him away and be done with the tragedy that was disrupting his small-town bliss.

He backed off, turning on his heel to leave. Chuck gaped at him as he passed, shouting, “What, that’s it? Piss off, then!”

Newt only realized after he’d left the building that Chuck had been the one to drive him there. Sighing and shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he started trudging back to the hotel. He had to tell Hermann. Together, they would figure out some way to fix this mess.

\--

A rapid-fire pounding on his door startled Hermann awake, followed by Newt’s scratchy, muffled voice yelling, “Hermann! Open up!”

“Nngh,” Hermann groaned, rolling over to press his face into the pillow for a second before sitting up. “One moment!” he called back. He grabbed his cane from where it leaned against the bedside table, and staggered to his feet.

Newt was in a state on the other side of the door, with disheveled bedhead and his shirt buttoned up wrong beneath his jacket. He was also, inexplicably, holding Hermann’s slippers in one hand. He thrust them at Hermann’s chest without a word of explanation before pushing past him into the room, pacing and running a hand through his wild hair.

“What the devil is going on?” Hermann demanded. He shut the door and dropped his slippers to the floor, watching Newt’s agitated movements.

“Tanner Green’s in custody,” Newt said. “He confessed to the murders.”

“He did what?” Hermann said, eyebrows shooting up. “Well, that’s… unexpected, isn’t it?”

“He’s innocent,” Newt said. He tugged at a chunk of his hair before dropping both hands abruptly to his sides. “I know he is. They’re saying he used scuba equipment and — Jesus, Hermann, we saw him last night, the man was asleep in a lounge chair he could barely fold up, did that look like a masterminding murderer to you? I just can’t figure the _why._ Someone at Shao must be blackmailing him, or threatening him, to get him to take the fall. You talked to Chuck about him yesterday, did he say anything —?”

“I… he mentioned Tanner’s mother was ill,” Hermann said slowly. “Why, what are you saying?”

Newt crossed to Hermann then, grabbing him by the shoulders, and Hermann stared at him, wide-eyed. “Hermann, _think_ for a second. After what happened to us last night, does this really make sense?”

“A human culprit is the most logical answer,” Hermann started, but Newt was already shaking his head.

“I’m not asking you for the most logical answer, I’m asking for what makes the most _sense_ ,” he said.

Hermann frowned. “They’re the same thing.”

“Not always,” Newt insisted. “Not this time.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Newt’s face was so close to Hermann’s and his eyes — huge behind his glasses, hazel, Hermann suddenly noticed — burned with startling intensity. Finally, Hermann said quietly, “Regardless, we have no evidence to prove anything to the contrary. And Tanner confessed. By all accounts this case is closed, our presence is no longer needed.”

Newt snorted. “Yeah, and it’s not wanted, either. Sheriff Hansen made that pretty clear.” He released Hermann, shuffling back as if only just realizing he’d been invading Hermann’s personal space.

“I’m sure he’s doing what he thinks is best for the community,” Hermann said.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Newt repeated, rolling his eyes. “But you know what _I_ think? I think Shao did some digging on whatever happened at that facility twenty years ago and decided to add genetic mutation to her skill set.” There was a frenzied, manic quality to Newt’s words, his voice pitched higher as he spoke. “So she comes in with her fancy tech and two decades’ worth of scientific advancements and makes something dangerous. And it’s killing people, and then _I_ show up and start snooping around, and suddenly she can’t wait any longer to clean up her little mess.”

“Geiszler —” Hermann began gently.

Newt spoke over him. “So they — they blackmail Tanner Green. ‘Wouldn’t it be terrible if something were to happen to your mother,’ typical shady mega-rich corporation bullshit. And attention is diverted, giving them enough time to… fuck. They’re probably wiping their tracks right now. I gotta get down there before they get rid of that thing and —”

“Geiszler!” Hermann shouted, and Newt finally stopped, his mouth snapping shut. “Do you hear yourself? What you’re proposing is not only completely based on conjecture and your own imagination, but it is… it is the stuff of science fiction!”

Newt huffed out a laugh. “Of course, _now_ you tell me you think I’m crazy.”

“Agent Geiszler, you _are_ crazy,” Hermann snapped. “And your behavior is entirely unprofessional. I’m not thrilled with how this turned out any more than you are, but it is _over_.”

Newt didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there with his chest heaving ever so slightly from his quick, angry breaths. Then, oddly, he said, “Last night you were calling me Newton.”

Hermann immediately felt heat creep up his neck. “A momentary slip-up,” he stammered. “I was tired.”

“No, don’t pull that shit, come on. I know you’ve got a stick up your ass about professionalism, but when it’s just us? Drop the titles, alright? I think I’ve earned that much.”

Hermann wanted to question how anything they’d gone through _earned_ doing away with professional respect, but instead he just nodded. Newt was thrumming with an energy that made Hermann nervous, so anything to appease him was probably best.

“Newton,” he tried again, soft this time. “We need to go.”

For a moment, he thought Newt was going to continue to fight him, but then his shoulders slumped, and he held up his hands. “Okay. We’ll go, you’re right.” He dropped his gaze, no longer meeting Hermann’s eyes, and edged toward the door. “I’ll just… get my shit packed up, huh? Meet you at the car?”

“Alright,” Hermann said. He hesitated, and then touched Newt’s shoulder. Newt looked from Hermann’s hand to his face, eyes widening slightly. “I _am_ sorry it ended like this, Newton,” Hermann told him.

Newt licked his lips and darted his eyes away again. “Yeah. Me too.”

Hermann let go, and Newt hurried out of the room. Hermann stood there for a long moment, his mind buzzing with everything that had just occurred. The reasonable part of him clung to the facts, which were that three people were dead and a man who’d been repeatedly seen at the scene of the crime had confessed. It was reasonable, all things considered. His motive was perhaps unclear, but that would be revealed in time. It was not the first seemingly motiveless crime Hermann had encountered.

And yet… and _yet_ , Hermann could feel the phantom grasp of the thing in the water, wrapping around his leg and wholly alive, bizarre and — he hated to even think the word — _alien_ , nothing he’d ever encountered before. Was Newt right?

Before he could begin to dwell on what that might mean, he heard the unmistakable sound of a car engine starting from outside. A terrible dread suddenly flooding his stomach, he scrambled forwards and yanked open the hotel room door in time to see Newt in their Bureau-delegated car, peeling out of the parking lot with a screech of the tires.

“Newton!” Hermann shouted after him. “Where the hell are you going?” It was useless, of course — Newt was already pulling out onto the road in the direction, of course, of the lake. “Stubborn bastard,” Hermann muttered to himself. He couldn’t very well follow Newt on foot, and he was hesitant to call up the sheriff for a ride, if Newt had already irked him. There was nothing to do but pack up and wait for him to return, sheepish, and admit defeat.

Hermann told himself this, but the dread in his gut did not dissipate.

\--

Newt knew he was being rash — it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something questionable to prove a point. The difference now was that he was leaving Hermann in the dust, and he felt a little bad about that. It _was_ a dick move. But Hermann would forgive him when he came back with concrete proof that Shao was to blame, when he’d cleared Tanner’s name and justice had been served. Newt tightened his grip on the steering wheel, tingling with anticipation for whatever awaited him when he arrived at the lake.

He parked a good distance away from the shore, so the car wouldn’t be visible from the other side of the water. Crouching, he darted over to a dense patch of shrubbery and ducked behind it, peering through the leaves.

What he saw was mild chaos outside the Shao Industries facility. At least a dozen personnel in full hazmat gear were pacing along the bank of lake, holding what looked like tranquilizer guns. A windowless van was parked further upshore, and beside it was what looked like an oversized kennel, the kind that might be used to transport a particularly large dog. Liwen Shao stood beside it, speaking into a walkie talkie with an uneasy expression.

“Fucking knew it,” Newt muttered to himself. He pulled out his phone and opened the camera app, pushing aside a few branches so he could film the scene from the secrecy of the bushes. As he watched, a handful of the people in hazmat suits started shouting and pointing frantically to a spot where the water was rippling. The ripples came closer to the shore, and two of them fired their tranqs in that direction. Newt leaned forward, trying desperately to get a clearer view without toppling face-first into the dirt.

They were pulling something out of the water, encircling it, and dragging it over to the kennel. He could see a leg, almost human-like in shape, but with a slick, greenish flesh and a long, webbed foot. It appeared not quite animal, but certainly not human. Newt had never seen anything like it before in his life.

“What the hell…” he breathed, using his pointer finger and thumb to zoom in the video. He still couldn’t see the creature’s face, but one of its arms, limp now as the full effect of the tranquilizer took hold, slumped into view. There was no mistaking those fingers. A glimpse was all he needed to confirm what he already knew. That creature, whatever it was, was what attacked him the night before. He glanced down at his phone screen to make sure he had everything in frame —

A gloved hand covered his mouth, and something sharp jabbed into this side of his neck. Immediately he launched himself backward, trying to body-slam whoever was behind him, but their arm was wrapped tight around him. He realized with a sickening lurch of his stomach that he’d left his gun in his hotel room… stupid, _stupid_ mistake… his head was beginning to feel heavy on his neck, his mind woozy. He continued to struggle, biting at the hand over his mouth. His attacker grunted in pain and dropped him gracelessly to the dirt. Newt’s vision went spotty, tunneling until all he could see was the dappled morning sunlight through the tree overhead. Then someone was hoisting him up and shoving a bag over his head, and everything went dark.

\--

Hermann took his time packing up his belongings as he waited for Newt to return. He wrapped Karla’s snowglobe in one of his shirts and tucked it away. When he went into the bathroom to get ready, he eyed the bubble bath for a long moment before tossing it into his suitcase as well. After he’d spent a long enough time adjusting his tie in the mirror and smoothing uselessly at the cowlick at the back of his head, he clipped his badge to his jacket pocket and sat down heavily on the bed. He rolled his cane pensively between his palms. A glance at his watch told him it had been nearly an hour since Newt had driven off. Surely it wouldn’t take too much longer for him to realize that harassing Shao further would not yield the lake monster he was trying to will into existence?

Or perhaps that was just what Hermann was trying to convince _himself_ of, instead. He scowled at the very thought, pushing himself back up to his feet and stalking over to the window to peer through the blinds. To his surprise, he saw the FBI rental car was back in the lot. He hadn’t heard Newt drive up — how long had it been there? Still frowning, Hermann walked out of his room and over to Newt’s. The lights were off inside, but he hammered a fist on the door anyway.

“Newton! Open the door, you bloody bastard! What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. No response. Fuming, Hermann grabbed at the knob with the intention of rattling it threateningly, and was startled to find that it was unlocked. The door swung open, and Hermann squinted as he made out Newt, laying on the bed and apparently asleep. He was on top of the covers, fully dressed; he even had his shoes on. Rolling his eyes, Hermann flipped on the light switch.

Newt didn’t so much as budge. In the better lighting, Hermann could see that his shirt was done up properly now, and his hair looked like he’d combed it. Something about the whole thing felt… off, somehow. For a horrible moment, Hermann watched Newt’s chest, afraid he wouldn’t see the tell-tale rise and fall of his breathing, but he seemed fine — just very deeply asleep. Still, Hermann approached him cautiously, very aware of the muted sounds his shoes and cane made on the carpet. When he reached the side of the bed, he sat down and very gingerly shook one of Newt’s shoulders.

“Newton,” he said. He shook him a bit more firmly. “Newton, wake up.”

Finally, Newt groaned, opening one eye to stare groggily at Hermann. He still had his glasses on. “Whuh happen?” he slurred.

“I rather think you should be telling me,” Hermann sniffed. “That was some stunt you pulled, running off on me like that —”

Newt sat up so suddenly that Hermann almost fell off the bed. He looked abruptly more awake, and more panicked. He clutched Hermann’s arm. “I saw — fuck, Hermann, I saw it. It’s real, they pulled it out of the lake, I can’t really remember —” He cut himself off, scrabbling at his pockets until he produced his phone. He tapped frantically at it as he spoke. “Hang on, I got a video. I don’t know if you can see much, but… oh, god _damn_ it!” He threw his phone on the bed, where it bounced once before landing beside Hermann’s knee.

“For god’s sake, man, calm _down_ ,” Hermann said, getting more and more alarmed by Newt’s frenzied behavior. “What are you going on about?”

“Someone caught me watching Shao’s people from across the lake and I think… I think they must’ve drugged me or something,” Newt said. He swallowed roughly. “They deleted the footage from my phone. I swear, I’m not making this shit up.” He slapped at the side of his neck with one hand. “Wait, maybe you can still see where they drugged me? I felt a needle in my neck.” His hand slid away from his neck and stared at Hermann. “Will you check?”

He sounded desperate, his eyes wide and still slightly out of focus. Hermann put a hand on Newt’s arm, gentle but firm. “Newton, take a breath.”

Newt wrenched away from him. “Just _look_ and tell me if there’s something there.”

Hermann sighed. “Alright. Be still for a moment.” He leaned in, carefully placing his hand on the back of Newt’s neck. He could feel the rapid thrumming of Newt’s pulse under his fingers. Newt’s skin was very warm, and he jumped slightly at Hermann’s touch. Hermann willed his fingers not to shake. He used his other hand to gently smooth over the skin on the side of Newt’s throat, searching for any sign of a pinprick or puncture wound. He kept his gaze firmly locked straight ahead. For some reason, he didn’t trust himself to so much as glance up at Newt’s face.

After a few moments of breathless silence, Hermann leaned back, putting his hands in his lap. “I don’t see anything.”

Newt closed his eyes. “Hermann,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m not lying.”

“I don’t think you’re lying,” Hermann said honestly. “I think you believe what you’re telling me is what happened to you. I don’t know that it _is_ what happened, but it’s what you think you remember.”

Newt laughed humorlessly, dropping his head into his hands. “Alright, sure.” He scrubbed at his face for a moment, shoving his glasses up to his forehead, and then looked blearily at Hermann. “What do you suggest we do, then?’

“It’s… possible that if you were drugged, I wouldn’t be able to tell visually, but bloodwork could reveal traces of it still in your system. We should get back to Washington, we can have the proper tests run that way.” Hermann lifted a hand with the intention to touch Newt’s shoulder, but instead let it fall back into his lap. It wasn’t his usual nature to offer physical comfort like this — there was just something about the haunted, dazed expression which had not left Newt’s face that made Hermann itch to reassure him somehow.

“Sure,” Newt said again, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “Hermann, I —” He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom lip. “Let’s just go.”

\--

Newt gave Hermann the keys, but there was none of the petty victory Hermann would have felt a day ago. They drove in silence, Newt staring out the window and Hermann too concerned to even think of turning on the radio. He stopped by the sheriff’s office on their way out of town to bid a brief and intensely awkward goodbye to Sheriff Hansen. Chuck was there as well, skulking in a corner and giving Hermann a resentful glare. Newt stayed in the car.

Hermann wracked his brain for logical explanations — Newt could have fallen asleep after returning from his fruitless visit to the lake and had a particularly vivid dream after their chaotic night prior. He could have seen Shao personnel performing a routine experiment and let his imagination run away with him to see what he wanted to see. These solutions felt cheap, inadequate to explain the state of distress Hermann had found Newt in, but then again, he barely knew the man; perhaps this was always his reaction when his conspiracy theories didn’t play out. Hermann’s role in all of this was to poke holes in Newt’s theories. That was the unspoken expectation Pentecost had given him. He only wished it made him feel any better to do so.

“I’m sorry,” Newt said, after more than an hour of silence between them. Hermann jumped at the sound of his voice and cut his eyes over to him. Newt had sat up from his slumped position against the window, but he was looking straight ahead instead of at Hermann.

Hermann cleared his throat. “For what?”

“For dragging you all the way out here, making you ‘disobey protocol,’ putting your job at risk. I just wanted —” He broke off with a sad little chuckle. “I just wanted someone else to _see_. I’ve been doing this for years on my own, and I’ve gotten used to no one believing what I think, but it gets old, man. I thought maybe if I had someone with me, someone else who could see the truth… it’d be different this time.”

Hermann’s brow furrowed, and he kept his eyes firmly on the road. “I understand.”

“I won’t ask you to do this again,” Newt said. “If Pentecost gives you any trouble about it, I’ll take the fall for this one, okay?”

Now that, Hermann thought, simply wouldn’t do. He was surprised by how immediately he rejected the very concept of this being a one-time thing, of going back to desk work and listening to Newton’s silly little tape recorders in the aftermath. This case had been nothing like any he’d worked on before, and if there was even the slightest chance that he could do this again, he’d take it.

“Agent Geiszler, your methods are unorthodox at best and downright foolhardy at worst,” he began. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Newt’s shoulders hunching defensively. “This entire investigation was a train wreck from start to finish. Why is why I shall be _very_ clear in my field report that it is imperative I continue to join you on cases from now on.” He glanced over with a faint smile. Newt was gaping at him. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on you, after all. And I’ll find it much easier to debunk your nonsense if I’m with you.”

“Is that right?” Newt said, barely concealed delight in his voice. “Well, shit. Okay.” He grinned, and Hermann grinned back, unable to help himself.

“If we are to continue like this, Newton,” Hermann added, sobering slightly. “I need you to trust me. No more running off on your own.”

“You’re right,” Newt said slowly. “But it’s a two-way street, Hermann. You’ve gotta trust me, too.”

Trust was not something that came easy to Hermann. And Newt’s behavior had not done much to inspire it in him so far. But he was willing to try, and that was more than he’d ever anticipated. It was, for now, enough. “I agree,” he said. “From now on, we trust each other. And we do this together.”

“Together,” Newt echoed. He leaned back in his seat again, still smiling to himself. After a moment, he turned on the radio.  

\--

_Excerpt from Field Report: Case X319 – Agent H. Gottlieb_

_While I am unsatisfied with the explanation given by suspect Tanner Green, no compelling evidence to the contrary has come forward, and local authorities have progressed with his trial. Agent Geiszler and I have both attempted to make appointments to speak with Green, but his attorneys have denied our requests. The case is officially outside our jurisdiction, and is considered by the Federal Bureau of Investigation to be closed._

_As for Agent Geiszler’s claims of being drugged, his lab reports came back clean of any traces of known anesthetics, narcotics, or sedatives. His implication that the Shao Industries facility in Minnow Lake is harboring a genetically mutated or perhaps extraterrestrial creature are unsubstantiated. Further communication with the facility has revealed that Liwen Shao closed research at the location for the season, and has returned to China. This matter is also outside our department’s current jurisdiction._

_The question of whether true justice has been served is one I cannot easily or comfortably answer. While I hope that future investigations alongside Agent Geiszler will prove more satisfactory in their resolution, only time will tell. Through my own diligence and dedication to the truth at the heart of every case, I intend to find answers to the mysteries in Agent Geiszler’s “X-Files” as they continue to unfold._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And [roll credits](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJOsLdBqbPA).
> 
> NEXT TIME: A brief interlude between cases. Hermann takes a bath. Newt makes a call. 
> 
> the next chapter will come out... within the next two weeks, i'll say. hopefully sooner! thanks for all the support as always, and i hope you're excited for what's to come! i sure am!!! ok bye for now


	6. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you really only call to make small talk?" Hermann asked. "It’s not as if we don’t see enough of each other already.”  
> “Well… not exactly. Can you come to the office?”  
> Hermann frowned. “What, now? It’s Saturday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey howdy hey, we're back with a very brief interlude chapter to tide y'all over between cases. about a month ago i tweeted asking for some fun scenarios people would like to see these two get up to in their downtime, so this goes out to k_sci_janitor who requested "calling each other at home" and "newt feeding his fish." 
> 
> no warnings, just fun! thanks as always for your patience with my slower update schedule!

Hermann was called, by his coworkers and friends and family members alike, something of a workaholic. More than once it had been implied he didn’t know how to relax — even Newt had once snidely remarked, on one of their first days sharing an office, that Hermann was so tightly wound it was a miracle his head didn’t pop off. And Hermann supposed it wasn’t entirely untrue. He threw himself into his work; it was what allowed him to be so successful in his analyses. But that didn’t mean he _never_ took a moment to unwind. And in the days following his return from Minnow Lake, he was starting to feel like he was overdue for a bit of self-care.

The bubble bath he’d pilfered from the hotel had been sitting on the edge of his tub for more than a week, and he finally decided to put it to good use. He took his time filling the tub, humming to himself and pouring the soap into the hot water. He even poured himself a glass of wine. When the tub was filled, he put his “Relaxing Piano” playlist on his phone and set it on the edge of the sink. Using the grab bar along the wall, he eased himself into the bubbly water and immediately let out a groan of relief. He _did_ work too hard, and allowed himself little luxuries so rarely — habits instilled in him from childhood that he was still trying to shake.

For ten minutes Hermann sat in the warm water and tried to focus on relaxing his muscles, letting the tension he always carried in his shoulders loosen somewhat. He had just closed his eyes and really started to let himself drift when the soft music coming from his phone cut off abruptly, interrupted by his ringtone.

Hermann’s eyes snapped open, and he turned his head to scowl at his phone. People didn’t _call_ him, certainly not in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday. With a sudden surge of dread, he wondered if it might be his father — one of his impromptu “checking in” calls that amounted to little more than Lars Gottlieb listing off all the many ways Hermann was falling short of his potential. Answering such a call was just about the last thing Hermann wanted to do at the moment, but not answering it would only lead to more familial drama later. His relaxation thoroughly shattered, Hermann shifted in the tub, wiped his hands off on his towel, and grabbed his phone from the sink. He answered without bothering to look at the caller ID, leaning over the edge of the bathtub so he wouldn’t accidentally drop his phone into the water.

“This is Dr. Gottlieb,” he said stiffly.

The voice on the other end of the phone was familiar, but so completely opposite from what he’d been expecting that it took him a moment to process who it was. “Oh ho ho, so you’re _Dr. Gottlieb_ when you’re off duty, huh?” Newt said.

“It _is_ a title I’ve earned, I don’t see why I shouldn’t use it,” Hermann said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I thought it was my father calling.”

“You call yourself Dr. Gottlieb to your _dad_? Can we unpack that?”

Hermann sighed. “Did you need something, Newton?”

“What, I can’t just call to say hello?” Newt had a smile in his voice. “What are you up to today, Hermann?”

Hermann was suddenly, horribly aware that he was talking to Newt while sitting in the bath, completely naked. _Newt_ might not know that, and it wasn’t like it mattered, but he felt the back of his neck heat up anyway. “Trying to enjoy one of my two precious days away from that stuffy little basement,” he retorted, stuttering over his words a bit too much to sound as scathing as he’d intended.

Newt just laughed easily. “Aw, come on, it’s not that bad!”

“You’ve just been locked away down there too long. You’re immune to it,” Hermann said. “Now did you really only call to make small talk? It’s not as if we don’t see enough of each other already.”

“Well… not exactly. Can you come to the office?”

Hermann frowned. “What, now? It’s Saturday.”

“Like you don’t work weekends all the time,” Newt scoffed. “Come on, it’ll be quick, I promise. I need to show you something.”

“It’s actually important?” Hermann asked wearily. He mourned his bath, the bubbles already starting to dissipate.

“Crucial,” Newt confirmed solemnly.

Hermann agreed to meet Newt at the Bureau in half an hour, and set about draining the tub and drying himself off. He hoped that whatever Newt intended to “show” him wasn’t another half-baked theory about the Minnow Lake case. If he had to sit through Newt explaining in increasingly manic detail how the “creature” in the lake was actually an extraterrestrial, he would end up throwing something at Newt’s head, and that was bound to get him written up.

\--

When he arrived at the Bureau, he could hear Newt talking to himself on the other side of their office door. He entered without knocking, and was momentarily baffled by the sight that met him. Newt had done some very creative rearranging, and had managed to fit a second desk into the small space. He’d even set up some of Hermann’s things on the desk — his pencil holder and coffee mug, his computer and his stack of completed case files.

The desk wasn’t all Newt had added to the room, however. He’d also squeezed in a piece of furniture that couldn’t seem to decide whether it was a very small loveseat or a very big armchair, and, even more baffling than that —

“Are those _fish_?” Hermann asked, finally stepping into the room and staring with wide eyes at the tank Newt was standing in front of. It had a variety of colorful plants and decorations inside, as well as five goldfish. It was an enormous setup, taking up a large section of the wall on what was apparently Newt’s side of the room.

Newt turned around, brightening when he saw Hermann. “Oh good, you’re here! What do you think? I guess all those hours in college I spent playing The Sims really helped my interior design skills.”

“You’ve brought fish,” Hermann said faintly, “into our office.” Surely this was breaking at least a dozen rules and regulations.

Newt seemed unbothered, and turned back to the tank to sprinkle some fish food into it. “Yeah, I’ve been spending way too much time at the office lately, these guys were feeling neglected. I figured I’d see more of them if I brought them here, anyway.” He crouched slightly to look into the tank, an almost parental fondness in his voice. “I’ve had a couple of these babies for, god, going on three years now. Did you know goldfish can live up to thirty years? I had one when I was kid that lived for seven years, but then my dad got a cat and that’s when I learned about the circle of life, it was _very_ traumatic.”

“Newton, we cannot have fish in our office,” Hermann insisted.

“Man, you are hung up on the fish,” Newt said, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, what do you think of the rest of the place? Not so stuffy anymore, right?”

Hermann looked around the room again. If anything, it was _more_ cramped than before. He couldn’t begin to guess why Newt thought they’d need a small couch in the office. Newt was grinning at him hopefully, and Hermann gave him his best withering look. “Very impressive,” he deadpanned. He shuffled past Newt to his new desk, pulling back the chair and sitting down heavily. “Well, since you’ve dragged me all the way here, I may as well get some work done.”

“Oh,” Newt said, his smile fading slightly. “Wait, really? Shit, I didn’t mean to actually interrupt your weekend, man. Although,” he perked up suddenly, “since you’re here, I wanna run something by you. What d’you think the chances are of Pentecost agreeing to open an investigation on Shao Industries on the grounds of —”

“Zero,” Hermann replied, not looking up from the papers he was sorting through. “The chances are zero, Newton.”

Newt huffed in exasperation, but apparently decided to drop it, which was a miracle in itself. Instead, he returned to his fish, fussing with the area around the tank and alternating between humming to himself and talking to the fish in a silly voice. Hermann had gotten rather good at tuning him out over the past few weeks of sharing a space, and normally he wouldn’t find Newt’s behavior all that distracting, but right now he couldn’t stop covertly watching Newt instead of focusing on his work. There was something… _charming_ about Newt’s earnest enthusiasm about his aquarium, the way his eyes sparkled with genuine delight as he watched the goldfish swim around. It was good to see him smiling again, Hermann thought. After their last case he’d been so subdued. That was the reason Hermann’s chest now felt oddly like it was full of helium — why his palms were sweating where they rested, motionless, against the stack of unfinished reports. Newton had a very nice smile.

“Earth to Hermann,” Newt said, and Hermann startled, his eyes snapping back into focus. Newt was looking at him, his mouth quirked up in a curious half-smile. “You alright, dude? You were majorly spacing out just now.”

Hermann opened his mouth to spit out a dismissive retort, but then a realization clunked into place in his brain and his mouth just hung open for a moment as he tried to process. Newt’s expression shifted from “bemused” to “mildly concerned,” and Hermann finally managed to stammer, “I- I think I will go home after all. It’s impossible for me to focus with you making all that racket.”

Newt threw his hands in the air. “I wasn’t even being loud! And I didn’t _want_ you to stay and work, you cranky bastard.”

“That’s a fine way to speak to your coworker,” Hermann huffed, getting to his feet and snatching up his cane.

“We’re off duty, remember, _Dr. Gottlieb_?” Newt teased. Hermann’s ears burned, and he grumbled his way out of the office as Newt called, “See you Monday!” far too cheerily at his retreating back.

When Hermann was back in the safety of his car, he let his head fall back against the seat and sighed. This was, perhaps, inevitable in some respects: he didn’t make a habit of opening up to people, or exuding the type of energy that made others inclined to open up to him. The fact that he and Newt had gone through something harrowing together, and the fact that Hermann was a bit lonelier than he let on, _and_ the fact that Newt had shown any sort of genuine interest in him as a person — it was inevitable, yes, but that didn’t mean Hermann was any happier about the fact that he was starting to have _feelings_ for his _coworker_. It wasn’t anything serious, he told himself. Newt was just… decent-looking. With nice eyes and a good smile and his hands were always warm —

Hermann shook himself, groaning. He was being ridiculous. He would simply have to revert back to his initial, more distant professionalism when it came to Newt, and maybe finally use the Grindr profile Tendo had insisted on making for him a year ago during a work party. (Hermann was not going to use the Grindr profile. He knew himself well enough to know this.) He had always been excellent at compartmentalizing, after all, and he reminded himself that the purpose of his partnership with Newt — however cryptic Pentecost might be about it — was to debunk Newt’s absurd theories. With a bit of mental shoving, Newt would go back into the “professional nuisance” box where he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: Newt has a new case with some exciting extraterrestrial implications. Hermann has some reservations about the whole thing.
> 
> hermann in the bath concept courtesy of precursed_sleep on twitter and also [this x-files clip.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOS3adWRKho)
> 
> i know this was a short one, but the next chapter will be the start of a new arc and should be up in a couple weeks if not sooner! as always, ur comments fuel me and i'm glad you're enjoying this as much as i am! as a reminder, i'm on twitter @hermanngottiieb if you wanna talk xfiles au with me! :D


	7. BROTHERS, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann groaned. “Oh, Newton.”  
> “What d’you mean, _oh, Newton,_ don’t _oh, Newton_ me!” Newt protested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello.... long time no see.... we're back with the start of a new case! thank you for your patience. i hope this longer chapter will make up for the wait. 
> 
> i want to mention this up top since a lot happens this chapter, but shoutout to leslie for drawing [this art](https://twitter.com/lvsliescribbles/status/1076600994123972608) a while back that inspired me to include a certain conversation in this chapter ;)
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: non-graphic discussion of past character death, grief/loss. if you're worried this might be triggering for you, there's a more detailed warning in the end notes. let me know if there's a better way you'd prefer me to warn for these sorts of things!

_He is somewhere in the cold, and the dark. Sound echoes as he walks, an endless direction to nowhere. Something underfoot crunches, but not like a dead leaf or a broken bone — it’s softer than that. He bends down to touch whatever is beneath him, but before he can make contact, his eyes abruptly adjust to the dark and he sees his hand outstretched before him. There’s something written on the back of it, numbers that make no sense to him. But…_

_But it is not his hand. He knows whose hand it is, and it is impossible, and a voice that isn’t his either is speaking from his mouth, calling his own name —_

 

Raleigh Becket awoke as though he had been electrocuted, his body momentarily seizing before he slumped back, boneless, against his bed. He stared up at his dark ceiling, nowhere near the total, enveloping black of his dream. He lifted up his hand, and it _was_ his hand this time. But the numbers — the ones from his dream — were written on the back of it in pen, in his own scrawled handwriting. He scrambled to sit up, clicking on the light beside his bed, and sure enough the numbers were still there, eight of them. They were random, and didn’t mean anything to his sleep-addled brain, but one thing he knew for sure.

The hand in his dream had been his brother’s hand. The voice was his brother’s voice.

 

_WASHINGTON, D.C. — One week later._

 

Newt would never admit it, but he was starting to realize that Hermann might have a point about him spending too much time in the basement. He tried to remember the last time he’d meandered the upper floors when he wasn’t on his way to request a car or get a half-hearted lecture from Pentecost about the quality of his field reports, and couldn’t think of a time in recent memory. Even now, he was only up there to look for Hermann, who was not in his usual spot hunched over his desk and muttering to himself when Newt got to the office that morning.

He found him standing by one of the upstairs break rooms, along with a few people Newt didn’t recognize and one he did — Tendo Choi. They were drinking coffee and making small talk, though Hermann looked vaguely out of place, like he didn’t know how to hold himself.

“Hermann!” Newt called, lifting a hand up to wave. Hermann startled, nearly sloshing coffee on himself, and frowned as Newt approached. Tendo gave Newt a friendly smile, and the rest of the agents mumbled awkward excuses before scattering back to their desks.

“How’s it going, Newt?” Tendo asked. “Emerging from the cave, huh?”

“Hey, I emerge from the cave all the time,” Newt retorted with a grin. “Didn’t Herm — I mean, Gottlieb over here tell you about our fun little lake adventure?”

“He _did_ ,” Tendo said, with the tone of voice that made it sound like he was referencing an inside joke. Hermann’s face was turning an unpleasant shade of red. “He’s been telling me _so_ much about your fun times together.” Tendo elbowed Hermann, and then said breezily, “Well, I’ll leave you two to your work. Catch you around, Gottlieb!” He raised his coffee cup in mock-toast to them both before strolling away. Hermann’s face did a fun shift from bug-eyed astonishment to squinty disapproval at Tendo’s back.

“Be honest with me, Hermann,” Newt said, and Hermann’s attention snapped back to him, an eyebrow raised. “Do I stink or something?”

“What sort of question is that?” Hermann said, affronted.

Newt gestured to the distinct lack of people around them. “Everyone cleared out in a hurry when I came over,” he said. He wasn’t actually bothered, and he knew he didn’t stink — but he was _very_ entertained by the look on Hermann’s face as he struggled to come up with an explanation that wasn’t just “you’re the Bureau’s designated pariah.”

“Ah, well — you do have something of a reputation,” Hermann said finally.

“Reputation?” Newt said, laughing slightly. “What reputation?”

Hermann looked away and then back at him again. “You know. Your — your theories, and your methods, people think they’re….”

“Spooky?” Newt supplied, unable to hide his shit-eating grin any longer. “Do you think I’m _spooky_ , Hermann?”

Hermann huffed dramatically and took a long drink from his coffee mug instead of replying. When he did speak, it was to change the subject. “Did you come looking for me for a reason, or could you not bear to go another five minutes without irritating me?”

“That cuts deep, man,” Newt said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock-affront. “We’ve got a new assignment, actually. If you care to join me back at the cave, I can debrief you.”

They made their way down to the basement together. When they entered the small, cluttered space, Hermann made a little huff of surprise. He moved over to his desk, where a large gift bag was sitting on top of his stacks of papers.

“What is this?” he demanded, poking at the side of the bag like it was some kind of slimy creature instead of a present.

“I got you a little something,” Newt said, shrugging.

Hermann looked at him, his brow furrowing slightly. “You got me something,” he repeated. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out, genius!” Newt said, laughing. “You are familiar with how gifts work, right?”

Hermann grumbled incoherently, but he hooked his cane in the crook of his elbow and reached into the bag, lifting its contents out slightly. He revealed a periwinkle windbreaker with a teal and pink collar, holding it out in front of himself so Newt couldn’t see his expression.

“To make up for leaving your parka at the bottom of a lake,” Newt explained. “I know this isn’t _quite_ as warm, but I have no idea where you found that parka, dude, I swear it had a built-in heater.” If Newt was entirely honest, he bought the windbreaker (at a thrift shop, no less) because he’d never once seen Hermann in a color palette other than greys, browns, and the occasional army green. He didn’t even think Hermann would _wear_ the thing, but his wide-eyed, appalled reaction at Newt’s choice was all Newt really wanted.

Except when he lowered the jacket at last, Hermann wasn’t making that face at all. He was staring at Newt the way Newt had seen him stare at crime scene evidence, like he was trying to decipher some hidden message. He worked his jaw in that funny way of his. Finally, he just said, “I, ah, that is... well, thank you, Newton. Yes.”

Seeing how thrown Hermann seemed to be made _Newt_ feel a little off-kilter. Maybe Hermann just wasn’t used to getting gifts, which was kind of depressing. In any case, Newt thought the best way to clear whatever weird tension was forming in the room would be to dive right into the X-File.

“I don’t think you’re gonna be needing it for this one anyway, bud.” He grabbed a manila envelope on his desk and waved it at Hermann. “We’re going to the good ol’ Southwest, and it’s hot as hell down there right now.”

“I see,” Hermann said. “And what are we investigating, exactly?”

“About five years ago, this guy Yancy Becket goes missing.” Newt pulled a photo from the file, of a man in his early twenties — blond, with a jock-ish look about him. He passed the photo over to Hermann, who frowned down at it. “He and his younger brother had moved to Arizona from Alaska, working construction. The brother says they were out in the desert in their pickup truck and he was sitting in the back, and his brother walked off to take a piss and then — well, he vanished.”

“What, into thin air?” Hermann said, looking up from the photo.

“Apparently. There was an investigation for a while, but there was literally nothing to go off of, so the case went cold for years. Until now. The brother — Raleigh Becket — he says he’s got new information, he’s been trying to get someone to open up the case again. According to Becket, he’s received a message from his brother. A _telepathic_ message.”

Hermann groaned. “Oh, Newton.”

“What d’you mean, _oh, Newton_ , don’t _oh, Newton_ me!” Newt protested. “His words, not mine, alright? As I’m sure you _won’t_ be surprised to hear, the detective working the case originally didn’t seem convinced by his story.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Hermann deadpanned.

“Becket’s been adamant that his brother was abducted from the start,” Newt spoke over him. “And it makes sense, the Southwest is a notorious spot for stories of alien sightings and abductions.”

Hermann passed the photo of Yancy back to him with a sigh. “I’m not sure ‘sense’ is the term I’d use.”

“Well you can tell me all about how wrong I am on our flight to Arizona,” Newt said breezily, sliding the photo back into the folder and closing it. “Except actually I get sick on planes, so I’ll be conked out on dramamine the whole time.”

Hermann sighed. “Lovely.”

\--

The weather was _warm_ when they landed in Phoenix, even for late October. If they didn’t have to adhere to at least _some_ Bureau dress code standards, Newt would be in shorts and a T-shirt. As it was, he’d forgone the suit jacket and changed into a short-sleeved shirt. Hermann didn’t seem to be familiar with the concept of _dressing down_ — he was still in his usual three layers, and his dour expression gave no indication if he was secretly sweating his ass off under it all. The man was an enigma.

They were to meet Raleigh Becket at his home, a tiny duplex he’d once shared with his older brother. Newt pulled into the gravel driveway, where another car was already parked, the driver leaning against the side of the car. Newt had spoken briefly with Detective Jules Reyes back in Washington; she’d agreed to join them to speak to Becket, but she made it clear she wasn’t convinced there was any actual new information to merit reopening the case. She waved to them as they got out of the car and approached.

“Agent Geiszler, Agent Gottlieb,” she said, nodding to them both. “How was your flight down?”

“Slept like a baby the whole way,” Newt said cheerfully. “This one’s got the drool stains on his shoulder to prove it.” He hooked his thumb at Hermann, who made a face like he’d just swallowed a lemon.

Jules looked vaguely amused, but sobered quickly. “Raleigh’s waiting inside. I hope you understand, he’s good guy. This has been hard on him. This was my first big case when I was promoted to detective, and it’s terrible that there hasn’t been any closure.”

“Well, maybe now there can be,” Newt said. Jules pressed her lips together in a polite but unconvincing smile.

“I guess that’s what you’re here to determine,” she said. “Come on inside.”

The house looked about what Newt had expected for a place where a young man had been living by himself for several years. It was cluttered, a bit dusty, a jacket on the floor on top of a pile of shoes. Raleigh himself was sitting on the couch in the living room, and he stood up when they entered. He looked startlingly like his brother from the photo Newt had seen, but there was a weariness in his eyes that aged him beyond his years.

“Raleigh, these are Agents Geiszler and Gottlieb,” Jules said, as Raleigh shook both of their hands.

“I wasn’t sure if they’d actually send anyone,” Raleigh said, as Newt and Hermann sat down across from him. “Nice to be taken seriously for a change.” He shot a look at Jules, who sighed. This was clearly not the first time they’d had this conversation.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Newt said, “do you have any family in the area? Or are you here on your own now?”

“My parents and sister are back in Anchorage,” Raleigh said. He had his hands folded in his lap, twisting his fingers together over and over again. “They want me to come back home, but I… I can’t leave when Yancy’s still…” He cut himself off, swallowed roughly, and then looked up at them again. “I need to be here when he comes back, you know?”

Hermann shifted in his seat, that set to his jaw that meant he was holding back from some larger emotion. “Mr. Becket, have you been seeing anyone professionally in the past five years? Perhaps a grief counselor?”

Raleigh’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t need a _grief_ counselor. I’m not grieving. Yancy’s not dead.”

“Why don’t you tell us about the message you received,” Newt said quickly, sensing the way Hermann had tensed beside him. “From your brother?”

“Right. Yeah.” Raleigh deflated slightly. “I had a… a dream, I guess. But I wasn’t me. I was Yancy, and I was somewhere… dark, and cold. I couldn’t tell up from down. And on my hand — his hand — there were these numbers. I woke up and they were on _my_ hand.” He held up the back of his hand for them to see. Newt leaned forward, and sure enough, scrawled across the back of Raleigh’s hand in faded pen was a sequence of numbers: 72797769.

“Those mean anything to you?” Newt asked him.

Raleigh shook his head. “No fucking clue. But he’s trying to tell me something, I… I can feel it. Him. He’s reaching out to me somehow.”

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with the history of UFO sightings in the area,” Newt began, but Hermann’s voice, quiet but sharp, cut him off.

“Agent Geiszler, may I speak with you privately for a moment?” Hermann’s expression was dangerously neutral.

“Uh, sure,” Newt said. He got to his feet. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment,” he told Raleigh and Jules.

Hermann led the way out of the house, the aggressive way his cane clacked against the floor the only sign of how irate he actually was. Newt braced himself for whatever lecture he was about to receive, already mentally planning his counterarguments.

When they had shut the door behind them, standing on the little shaded front step, Newt said coolly, “What.”

“What, _precisely_ , do you think you are doing in there?” Hermann hissed. “UFO sightings — for God’s sake, Newton, the man hasn’t even been to a grief counselor and now you’re going to tell him a nightmare justifies the claim of alien abduction?”

“You don’t know it was just a nightmare!” Newt exclaimed. “Listen, there is a documented history of abductees gaining psychic abilities, there’s a high possibility that Yancy Becket is communicating to his brother though some kind of mental link! If you’d read any of the files I gave you on the plane —”

“Newton, do you have siblings?” Hermann interrupted.

Thrown by the sudden change in topic, Newt fumbled for an answer. “Uh. No, I’m an only child.”

“I thought as much,” Hermann said, but he didn’t sound like he was trying to mock Newt in some way. He sounded defeated. “I have a sister, and I had two brothers.”

“Oh...kay?” Newt said, brow furrowing as he tried to figure out where the hell Hermann was going with this. Then his mind snagged on the verb tense Hermann had just used, and a cold feeling crept into his stomach. “What do you mean ‘had’?”

Hermann’s jaw was clenched tight, his eyes fixed determinedly away from Newt; he was looking at the mailbox at the end of the drive, _BECKET_ written on the side in the same scrawl as the numbers on Raleigh’s hand. “When I was in college, when I was in my… accident. I wasn’t alone in the car.” His knuckles were white where he gripped his cane. “My younger brother Bastien was driving, and when we were hit — I merely shattered my leg. He wasn’t so lucky.”

Newt closed his eyes briefly. “Shit, Hermann. I had no idea.”

“For a long time afterwards, I dreamed of him,” Hermann continued, voice rasping. “I would dream whole conversations. We would talk about… anything, nothing. It didn’t matter. There was a time where, in my grief, in my pain, if someone had told me that my dreams meant my brother was still alive, was _speaking_ to me… I would have been desperate to believe it.” He finally looked at Newt then, his eyes very slightly rimmed red, his chin lifted as if to take full advantage of their slight height difference. “But it would not have _changed_ anything, Newton. It would not have been _true_. Bastien is gone, and to have been told otherwise would only have hurt me more. Do you understand?”

Newt let out a slow breath. When they’d first talked about the disappearance of Newt’s mother, he’d thought Hermann’s response was merely one of sympathy. He hadn’t realized Hermann knew loss so intimately. He fought the impulse to give the guy a hug, to apologize — because he knew what he was going to say instead.

“I understand,” he said carefully. “Maybe… maybe you should sit this one out. The case hits too close to home for you, there’s too much personal baggage. That’s okay. You can go back to Washington, and I can handle this one by myself.”

Hermann, for a moment, just stared at him in silence. “I have too much personal baggage?” he repeated. Then, louder, making Newt jump, “ _I_ have baggage?! You see similarities in Becket’s case to your mother’s, and you’re using a grieving man to fuel your own unfounded beliefs about her disappearance! Don’t pretend for a moment that you are not motivated entirely by your own _baggage_.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. His fingers were shaking.

Newt felt like he might be shaking, too. He had thought, maybe foolishly, that Hermann understood. Or understood _enough,_ to see why Newt had to take these cases that no one else would, had to _believe_ when everyone else looked the other way. Maybe he _was_ too close, but how could he not be? How could he be expected to walk away?

“To think that I actually believed —” Hermann muttered into his hand.

“What? You believed what?” Newt snapped.

“That you were anything but a single-minded, self-serving _fool_ ,” Hermann spat back. He stumbled over the words. “I will not be going back to Washington. I will be doing my _job_ of keeping an eye on you. I will, however, stay out here for the time being. I don’t want to hear anything more about your ridiculous theories.”

“Sure, fine. Whatever.” Newt shoved his hands deep into his pockets, petulant. “Well if you’ll excuse me, then, I’m going to do _my_ job and help this kid find his brother.”

Hermann stomped away, headed for the car, and Newt resisted the urge to scream before wrenching the front door open and heading back inside. He took a minute to cool down, and while he was standing there in the entryway, he noticed the little collage of photos pinned to the wall beside the unused coat rack. Family photos, mostly. There was a picture of Raleigh and Yancy, arms flung over each other’s shoulders, both beaming at the camera.

Newt sighed, his chest feeling tight. When he walked back into the living room, Raleigh and Jules were both conspicuously acting like they hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop.

“Is everything alright?” Jules asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Agent Gottlieb had to, um, step out for a moment, but we can keep talking.” Newt sat back down and turned to Raleigh. “I’m going to help you figure out what those numbers mean, but it’s not a lot to go off. Could you tell me what you two were doing the night he disappeared?”

Raleigh nodded. “We liked to go out to the desert sometimes, away from the city where the light pollution’s not so bad. There are these… lights that show up in the sky around here sometimes, you know, unexplained shit. Yancy thought maybe we’d be able to see something.”

“Did you?”

“No, there was nothing that night. He got out of the car, and I… I must’ve dozed off or something, I don’t know. Felt kinda like sleep paralysis? I thought I was awake, but I couldn’t move. And then when I could move again, a bunch of time had passed, and Yancy…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Newt chewed on his bottom lip, trying to ignore the way his heart quickened its pace at the description of Raleigh’s temporary paralysis. _This isn’t about you, and this isn’t about mom._ “Okay,” he said finally. “Detective Reyes, maybe it’d help if we could take a look at what notes you have from the initial investigation?”

“Of course,” Jules said. “They’re back at the station. Is Agent Gottlieb…?”

“He’s fine. I’ll just fill him in and then we’ll meet you there, yeah?” Newt said firmly, wanting to avoid any further prodding into his and Hermann’s argument. “Raleigh, we’ll be in touch soon, but you let me know if you have any more dreams with those numbers.” He pulled out his wallet and passed Raleigh a card with his phone number on it.

“I will,” Raleigh said. He flipped Newt’s card over in his hands a few times, and then looked up. The haunted look in his eyes remained, but there was something else there now, too. A fierce ember of hope. It made Newt’s ribs feel too tight. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Newt said with a weak smile.

Raleigh shrugged. “You’re here, you listened. That’s something.”

Jules cleared her throat. “Agent Geiszler,” she said. “We should head out.”

“Right.” Newt stood up, nodding to Raleigh. “We’ll talk soon.”

\--

Hermann sat on the hood of the car, tapping his cane in a distracted rhythm against his leg. He was embarrassed by how emotional his outburst had gotten, and how close he’d come to revealing certain… feelings. Not that it mattered.

This was, he supposed, the benefit of working as an analyst, staying locked away in the safety and detachment of the Bureau labs. He didn’t have to look into the mournful eyes of the _people_ attached to the evidence he was sorting through. It wasn’t as though he wanted to forget the purpose behind his work, it was simply that situations like this — he didn’t know how to handle them. He didn’t know how to disentangle his own emotions from the case at hand. Newton wasn’t wrong when he’d said Hermann had too much baggage for this one.

The door to the duplex opened, and Newt and Jules both filed out. Jules headed to her car, and Newt waved to her before turning around. When he saw Hermann, he immediately ducked his head, eyes shifting away to look at the ground. He stuck his hands in his pockets and approached the car, radiating a nervous energy like he expected Hermann to start yelling at him immediately.

There was a little part of Hermann that wanted to, honestly. But mostly he just felt wrung out. Old wounds he kept buried deep, suddenly fresh and re-exposed.

Newt hesitated, and then sat down on the hood of the car next to Hermann. He kept a good few inches of space between them. “Hey,” he said.

Hermann sighed, weary. “That didn’t take long.”

“You were right,” Newt said, nearly speaking over him. Hermann frowned at him, not understanding. “What you said before, about me being too… close to these cases. You’re right. Or,” he said, holding up a hand and making a “so-so” gesture with it, “you’re like, half right.”

“How so?” Hermann asked slowly.

“It’s… it’s like, if we do the work and we find out there’s no connection between the numbers on Raleigh’s hand and his missing brother, I’ll accept that. I’m not an idiot, I can accept a dead end when I find one. If Yancy really is… gone, then I want to help Raleigh get closure. That’s all.” He drummed his hands on his knees. “But if he tells me his brother was abducted, I’m gonna believe him. Because I know what it’s like for no one to believe you, and it fucking sucks. What are we here for if we’re not going to listen to what the people we’re helping have to  say? So. That’s why.” He peered at Hermann out of the corner of his eye.

Hermann had been holding his breath the entire time Newt spoke, and he let it out with a soft huff. He shook his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him.

Newt looked confused. “What?”

“Nothing.” Hermann met his gaze and offered a small smile. A truce. “It seems I keep jumping to the wrong conclusions about you.”

“Oh.” Newt smiled back. “Hey, dude, it’s understandable. I’m also pretty terrible.” That earned him a laugh, and Newt seemed to swell with pride. Then, to Hermann’s surprise, Newt placed a hesitant, gentle hand on his back. “I’m sorry about your brother, Hermann. I know I said it in a shitty way before, but you really don’t have to stay.”

Hermann mulled it over for a moment. He allowed himself to lean into the touch, just briefly, before shifting away. Newt’s hand fell, dropping to the space between them. “Thank you, Newton,” Hermann said. “But I’ll stay. Believe it or not, I’m after the same thing you are.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Hermann nodded firmly. “The truth.”

Newt beamed at him, and Hermann’s heart thumped pathetically. “Good,” Newt said. “Then let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DETAILED CONTENT WARNING (vague spoilers ahead): Hermann's younger brother was killed in a car accident when Hermann was in college. There is NO detailed or graphic discussion of the car accident. 
> 
> NEXT TIME: Jules shares her perspective on the night of Yancy's disappearance. Hermann puzzles over the numbers. Raleigh has another dream. 
> 
>  
> 
> did i set this case in arizona because i wanted to write about a location i've actually been to? maybe so. new chapter will be up Sometime Soon... comments appreciated as always! btw if you wanna know what hermann's jacket looked like, [please observe this iconic windbreaker.](https://thetvmouse.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/x-files-darkness-falls-lands-end.jpg)


	8. BROTHERS, part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt laughed quietly. “He vanishes into thin air, and you see unexplained lights in the sky, but I’m the crazy one for thinking abduction?”  
> “Agent Geiszler,” Hermann said through gritted teeth. He shot Jules an apologetic look. “Forgive him, he’s a bit of an alien groupie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy friends!! thank you all so much for your patience during this break between chapters. the end of the semester really kicked my butt, but i'm happy to report that i passed my classes and i should hopefully have the free time to update a bit more regularly again. 
> 
> no warnings this time except for the slight disclaimer that, as i've mentioned, i don't know jack shit about math or science, so please accept my brief wikipedia researching as adequate for certain elements of this chapter.

At the police station, Jules brought Newt and Hermann into her office and pulled a file from her desk. She handed it to Newt. “Here’s everything we have from the initial missing person investigation. I’ll be honest, it’s not much.”

Newt flipped through it quickly, frowning at the meager contents. “I’ll say.”

Hermann didn’t bother trying to look over the file — he was focused on Jules, who was drumming her fingers nervously against her thigh, her expression guarded.

“Detective Reyes? Is there something on your mind?” Hermann asked. Jules jumped slightly, meeting Hermann’s gaze. She held it for a moment, and some of the tension drained from her face.

“There is… something else. It’s not in the file.” She closed her office door before turning to face the two of them again. “Have either of you heard of the Phoenix Lights?”

“Of course,” Newt said immediately.

Hermann’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar.”

“The short version is, unexplained light formations appeared in the sky over Arizona in 1997,” Jules said. “Thousands of people witnessed it, including the governor at the time. It’s still never been explained.”

“It was in one of the files I gave you on the plane,” Newt said pointedly. Hermann resisted the urge to throttle him. “And that was just the _first_ appearance of the lights,” Newt added. “They showed up again about a decade later.”

“Those events were confirmed to be military activity, not a UFO,” Jules said.

“Allegedly,” Newt muttered.

Sighing, Hermann asked, “I’m sorry, what was the point of bringing this up? It happened more than two decades ago, it hardly seems relevant now.”

Jules reached into her desk drawer and pulled out another file. “The night Yancy Becket disappeared, I was on a patrol in town. I saw this, around ten that night.” She flipped the file open and pulled out what appeared to be a printed-out photograph. She passed it to Hermann, who held it so both he and Newt, leaning in close, could see. It was grainy, likely originally taken with a cell phone. The image showed the night sky above some city buildings, and a triangular formation of fuzzy lights in the center of it all. Newt made a soft sound of surprise, taking the photo from Hermann and holding it so close to his face that his nose nearly touched it, before jerking back up to look at Jules.

“You took this photo? That night?”

“Yes,” Jules said, crossing her arms defensively. “I… I didn’t know what to make of it. I still don’t.”

“No one else reported seeing the lights?” Newt asked.

Jules shook her head. “I looked it up the next day, but I didn’t see any reports of people seeing lights. I figured it was just a trick of the angle I was at. Probably an aircraft.”

“And yet you kept this all these years,” Newt said shrewdly. “Specifically in connection to this case.”

“You heard Raleigh say it himself, the boys didn’t see anything out there that night,” Jules protested. “Whatever these lights were, they were nowhere near the Beckets.”

“So why keep the photo?” Newt asked, insistent.

This brought her pause. She took a breath, opened her mouth and closed it again. Finally, she said, “Because… well, it is odd that it happened that same night. I can’t help but think of one when I think of the other. I wasn’t going to mention it, but Agent Gottlieb asked.”

Hermann hummed. “While this has been… enlightening insight to local legend, I do think we ought to focus on the case at hand. What can you tell us about it from your perspective?”

Jules spread her hands. “There was nothing at the crime scene. No evidence of another car or even someone on foot approaching Yancy or attacking him in any way. His footprints — or what was left of them in the dirt — led from the Beckets’ car to some creosote bush a few feet away. We can tell he relieved himself there, and then… that’s it. No footprints back to the car, or in any other direction. It’s like he just vanished into thin air.”

Newt laughed quietly. “He vanishes into thin air, and you see unexplained lights in the sky, but _I’m_ the crazy one for thinking abduction?”

“Agent Geiszler,” Hermann said through gritted teeth. He shot Jules an apologetic look. “Forgive him, he’s a bit of an alien groupie.”

“Christ, I’m not a _groupie_ , I’m just —” Newt cut himself off. He held up the photo. “Look, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep this with the case file for now.”

“Be my guest,” Jules said. “Honestly, I don’t believe that Yancy Becket was abducted by extraterrestrials, but I think whoever did take him — or however he left of his own volition — did a damn good job of covering their tracks. I know that sometimes cases just go cold and people stay missing, or their bodies turn up years later when everyone’s given up looking. I don’t want that to happen here. I just don’t see anything to go off from those numbers Raleigh wrote on himself in his sleep.”

Hermann glanced at Newt, who looked frustrated — it was a weary frustration, a furrowed brow and downward mouth of someone who had heard some variation of this speech a hundred times before. He felt a bit guilty for his previous jibe, as well as an improbable surge of loyalty to Newt. He decided he could swallow some small amount of pride, this once.

“Well, detective, that _is_ why we’re here,” Hermann said. He inclined his head to Newt. “Agent Geiszler has… experience in these types of disappearances, and I happen to have something of a knack for finding something where others have found nothing.”

Jules blinked. “I guess that’s true,” she said. “I hope you do find something. I want to close this case one way or another.”

“We’ll let you know the moment we have anything new to share,” Hermann said. “I suppose we should get to work reviewing everything.”

“I have an empty office for you to work in while you’re here,” Jules said. “If you’d prefer that to the hotel. I’ll be in and out of the station, but you know how to get ahold of me.”

 

Newt didn’t say anything until they were alone in the spare office Jules directed them to. He turned to Hermann, grinning, and gave his shoulder a companionable shake. Hermann endured it with only a mildly disgruntled expression.

“Thanks, man,” Newt said, releasing him.

“What for?” Hermann asked, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“You know what for,” Newt said, grabbing one of the chairs circling the small table and flipping it around to he could straddle it, arms folded over the back. “Siding with me for once.”

“We’re a team,” Hermann said with a shrug, sitting carefully in the other chair and stretching his bad leg out in front of him. “I’m not saying I believe this was the work of little green men any more than Detective Reyes does, I merely think we should… have each other’s backs, as it were.”

“Right,” Newt said. He was quiet for several minutes, as Hermann retrieved his computer, put on his reading glasses, and opened a notes file, typing out the numbers that had been on Raleigh’s hand. Hermann was just beginning to think that perhaps they would actually get some work done in companionable silence when Newt said, with a hint of amused exasperation in his voice, “You know, I don’t get you.”

Hermann sighed gently and glanced over at him. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, you wanted to be an _astronaut_ , Hermann. And even when that fell through, your entire doctorate was focused on how we could use math to explain the unexplainable in the universe. And yet now that something’s right there in front of you, you refuse to connect the dots —”

“Newton, you are seeing patterns where there are none. There are no dots to connect.”

“The hell there aren’t!” Newt exclaimed. He waved Jules’ “UFO” photo between them. “This thing showing up in the sky the night Yancy disappeared isn’t coincidence.”

“Correlation does not equal causation,” Hermann intoned.

Newt rolled his eyes. “Oh, you did _not_ just say that. We’ve really reached the point where you’re just going to quote scientific adages at me?” He slid the photo across the table towards Hermann, who flinched slightly as it came to a stop by his elbow. “Is it really so hard for you to entertain the possibility? What are you so afraid of?”

Hermann took a breath, made an aborted attempt to speak, and dropped his gaze to the table. He stared at the grainy photograph. The orbs of light hovered in a triangle above the buildings, pixelated and undefined at the edges. Hermann thought about facts, about what could be proven and what he knew to be true. There were things he had once had unwavering faith in; not because of numbers or data but because of a simple, earnest belief that they were not alone in the universe. He had tried going down the road of blind belief, and it had brought him nothing but loss and dead ends. Hermann took off his glasses. Then he looked back up at Newt and smiled wanly.

“I… I _want_ to believe,” he said. “I do, Newton. I’m just not there yet.”

Newt blinked at him. Not what he’d been expecting, then. “Fair enough,” he said at last. “We’ll get you there eventually.”

Hermann hummed. “That remains to be seen.” He tapped the UFO photo. “I think I’ll ask Detective Reyes for digital file of this. I can send it over to Agent Choi, see what he makes of it. He’s rather skilled in his digital analyses.”

“Hey, knock yourself out,” Newt said. He pulled a stack of folders from his bag and dropped them unceremoniously on the table. “I’ll be doing some old-school research over here.”

Hermann was pleased to find that Jules was still in her office. He tapped gently on the open door, and she looked up, a surprised smile crossing her face when she saw him.

“Oh, Agent Gottlieb. Have you figured out the numbers already?”

He laughed. “I’m afraid I’m not _quite_ that fast. No, I was actually hoping for a bit more from you on this.” He held up the UFO photo.

Jules’s smile faltered. “I really did tell you everything I remember. It’s not actually a piece of evidence for this case, and I don’t consider the two incidents linked.”

“I understand, and I’m inclined to take your perspective on the whole thing,” Hermann said. “But for my own peace of mind — could you send me the original file? I’d like to share it with our analysts back in Washington.”

“You think I faked the picture,” Jules said. It wasn’t a question. She didn’t seem offended, at least not terribly so. Still, Hermann was quick to shake his head, reassuring.

“It’s just standard procedure, detective, nothing more.”

“Alright, whatever makes you happy,” she said. She pulled a flash drive from her desk drawer, inserted it into her computer, and clicked around a few times before unplugging the drive and handing it to Hermann. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” Hermann tucked the drive into his pocket. He was about to leave the office, but his curiosity got the better of him, and instead he continued, “Forgive me for what’s probably a silly question, but the more recent sightings of these, ah, ‘Phoenix Lights’...”

“They were attributed to flares dropped by military aircrafts,” Jules said. “A training at the air force base. Of course, there are the usual conspiracy theories.”

“The government covering up alien activity?” Hermann supplied. He’d read enough of Newt’s files to know the standards by now.

“That’s one of them,” Jules said, amused. “The most popular one is even better, though. Some people think the government is actually _using_ the same alien technology from the first event.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “How’s _that_ for conspiracy?”

Hermann huffed out a laugh. “It’s certainly creative.” He shook his head, feeling a bit foolish. For a brief moment, he’d allowed himself to get caught up in Newton’s theories, but Jules was right — such elaborate conspiracies were laughable in their absurdity. “Thank you for indulging my curiosity.”

“Of course. It’s kind of fun to share the local legends,” Jules said. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, Agent Gottlieb.”

He nodded and left her to her work, returning to the spare office. Newt was elbow-deep in his files, so focused in that he didn’t even glance up when Hermann entered. His eyes flicked across the pages at an impressive speed, and his leg bounced rapidly beneath the table. Affection tugged at Hermann’s chest before he forced his gaze away, sitting back down at his own computer and popping in the flash drive. He sent the file along to Tendo with a brief explanation, and then settled in to decode Raleigh’s number sequence.

\--

It had been a while since Newt had been able to engross himself so thoroughly in his files. Before Hermann had been sequestered to the basement with him, Newt would often spend hours poring over the hundreds of manila envelopes in the dozens of filing cabinets crowding his tiny office. Painstakingly labeling each of them by hand, searching for connecting threads and committing most of the major case details to memory. When he really lost himself in his research, when he was able to find two pieces of evidence that tied something together, the adrenaline rush was like nothing else — the truth was so carefully and intentionally masked behind bureaucracy and red tape and a simple lack of imagination, but Newt knew where to look.

The problem with abduction cases, however, was that Newt had so goddamn many of them. Raleigh himself wasn’t an abductee, and he’d seen so little that Newt couldn’t exactly narrow down his stack of similar cases by honing in on the details. Paralysis was a common experience for abductees and those in the presence of extraterrestrials; so was “lost” time. But the cases could vary drastically from there, and Newt could find little that connected the numbers on Raleigh’s hand to any of the prior abduction reports he’d read.

After several hours of reading and scrawling notes, Newt leaned back in his chair and winced when his back popped. Hermann was hunched over his computer like some kind of gargoyle, the blue light from his laptop screen glinting off his glasses and obscuring his eyes. His mouth was pulled down in a vague frown of concentration, and he had one hand against his face, two fingers resting against his lips. Newt found the sight oddly charming.

“Any luck?” he asked.

Hermann startled at the sound of his voice, straightening his spine and looking owlishly at Newt for a moment before he seemed to come back to himself. “I’m afraid not,” he said, no small amount of frustration in his voice. “I don’t have enough data to work with. If this is a code of some kind, I don’t have a bloody a clue what it is.” He looked at his screen again and made a small noise of shock. “My god, it’s gotten late. We should head back to the hotel for the night, I think. Tackle all of this with fresh eyes and minds in the morning.”

He rose stiffly to his feet, using his cane for leverage. With a sigh, Newt stood up as well, starting to shuffle his case files into a messy stack that he could shove into his bag.

“Newton,” Hermann said gently, putting a hand on his arm. “I… I think it might be best if you prepare yourself for the possibility that these numbers have no hidden meaning.”

“I’ve been prepared for that since the beginning,” Newt said, defensive.

“Of course.” Hermann moved his hand away and worked his jaw for a moment before sighing and gathering his things instead. He didn’t say anything else until Newt had packed up, and then all he said was, “Ready to go?”

Their hotel rooms were directly across the hall from each other, and they paused for a moment at their respective doors. Hermann looked worn out, eyes slightly bloodshot. Newt’s hand rested on the doorknob for his room, but he didn’t turn it just yet.

“Well,” Hermann said awkwardly. “Do try to get some rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Newt said, smiling faintly. “See you in the morning, Hermann.”

“Goodnight, Newton.” Hermann continued to stand there for a moment, so Newt did too, but then Hermann seemed to shake himself out of whatever he was thinking and quickly slipped into his hotel room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Newt wasn’t planning to go to bed just yet — he kicked out of his shoes and pants, sitting on the bed and spreading his files across the bedspread in front of him. He rubbed at his tired eyes before diving back into his research.

 

> _A six-year-old boy in Lincoln County, Nevada claims he received messages in television static after an unknown encounter with a “glowing man from the sky” in his backyard._
> 
>  
> 
> _Two strangers on opposite sides of the country report hearing each other’s voices coming from their car radios in the weeks following separate “abduction” experiences._
> 
>  
> 
> _Woman disappears for six weeks, gains telekinetic ability to turn computer on and off in the wake of her mysterious return._

 

Newt fell asleep sprawled on top of the hotel bed, surrounded by papers and case studies. He slept fitfully, dreams shifting into memories — _his mother, standing before him in the living room of her apartment, looking larger than life and classically gorgeous and undeniably terrified. Newt looked up at her, his fingers fidgeting in the plush carpet he was sitting on. The television made a scratchy, staticky sound, and his mother startled, turning away from him to look back at it just in time to see the picture cut out. A blinding white light filled the room, and Newt’s mother screamed._

_“Mom? What’s wrong?” Newt tried to yell, but his voice was stuck in his throat. Everything was stuck, his fingers rigid and immovable where they fisted into the carpet. He could see the windows swing open, could see a figure entering the room, silhouetted by the blinding light. Newt screamed for his mother, tried to twist his head back and forth, but nothing worked. The immense pressure building in his skull reached a sudden peak, and he blacked out — but before he did, before his vision failed completely, something happened._ This wasn’t real, he never saw — _eyes, huge and black and liquid, staring right at him._

Newt woke up to his cell phone ringing. He let out a strangled yelp as he was startled out of his dream, momentarily disoriented. His heart was pounding, and he was all sweaty. The dream had been little more than a memory, a recurring stress nightmare, but that ending… that was new. He chalked it up to reading so many abduction cases right before falling asleep, but he still felt unsettled. None of the case files had mentioned those eyes.

His phone was still ringing, and after a moment of shoving papers off of himself he was able to grab his pants from the floor and retrieve his phone from one of the pockets. “Newt Geiszler,” he said, his voice cracked and groggy from sleep. His glasses were crooked on his face, and he fumbled to adjust them.

“Agent Geiszler? It’s Raleigh Becket. I… I had another dream.”

Newt felt immediately more awake. “Really? What happened? Wait, no, hold on, let me get Hermann — Agent Gottlieb. Just hang on a second.” Newt was scrambling out of bed even as he spoke, and he kept the phone pressed to his ear as he stepped out into the hall and knocked on Hermann’s door.

After a moment, Hermann opened it, wearing his pajamas and a robe and squinting blearily. “Newton? What’s the matter?” He glanced down and his eyes widened. “Why aren’t you wearing any pants?”

“Becket’s on the phone. He had another dream,” Newt stage-whispered. “Lemme in, dude.” He elbowed his way past Hermann and put his phone on speaker. “Okay, Raleigh, go ahead,” he said.

As Hermann huffed and shut the door, shuffling over to stand beside Newt, Raleigh spoke. He sounded quite shaken. “Right, so, it was the same as last time. I was in Yancy’s body, in that dark place. I did the same thing as before, you know, looked down at the ground, and this time I could see it. It was dirt, like desert dirt, but it had frost on it. Everything else was too dark.”

“Okay…” Newt said, frowning. “That’s — well, that’s a little more information than we had before, sure.”

“I’m not done,” Raleigh said. “There were numbers on my hand again. New ones.” He cleared his throat and then said slowly, “Eight, three, seven, nine, seven, nine, seven, eight.”

Newt glanced at his companion; Hermann was mouthing the numbers to himself, his brow furrowed. He caught Newt’s gaze and gave a slight shake of his head, as if to say, _no idea_. Newt tried to think back through the haze his nightmare had left, to remember some of the cases he’d started pulling from the stack. “Hey, Raleigh,” he said finally, “Is there a computer or a TV in your room by any chance?”

“Um, yeah,” Raleigh said. “My laptop. Why?”

“Is it on?”

“No, I turn it off at night.”

“Go ahead and touch it for me, would you?” Newt said.

Hermann frowned at him. “Newton, what —?”

“Just trust me,” Newt said. “Raleigh? You doing it?”

“Sure, hang on,” Raleigh said. There was a soft shuffling noise, and then Raleigh let out a startled huff of air. “Okay, that’s fucking weird. It’s off, but it feels hot, like it’s been running some big program all night.”

“Ha!” Newt shouted, causing Hermann to startle and Raleigh to make a disgruntled noise on the other end of the line. “In many abduction cases, abductees find that afterwards they’re able to influence technology, a kind of telekinesis. I think Yancy is using your computer as a conduit.”

“The computer,” Hermann repeated flatly.

“Hermann,” Newt protested, “I get that you think this is bullshit, but even you can’t deny —”

“Shut up for a moment,” Hermann cut him off. He had that look on his face, the calculating look he’d given Newt after he’d unwrapped his windbreaker, but this time he was looking off into space like he was seeing something Newt couldn’t. “He’s using… the computer. Mr. Becket,” he practically yelled into the phone, “please repeat the new numbers for me again.”

“Eight, three, seven, nine, seven, nine, seven, eight?” Raleigh said. “Hey, what the hell is going on?”

“I couldn’t figure out what these numbers meant before because I didn’t have context,” Hermann said. He was walking away from Newt as he spoke, to where his laptop sat on the little end table by the bed, and Newt hurried to follow him, holding the phone out so Raleigh could hear. “But if the computer is involved… I believe what we’re seeing here is integral data.”

“Int — _what_?” Raleigh said.

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with computer programming, Mr. Becket,” Hermann said, opening his laptop, “but the computer uses integral data, integers, to represent what you see on the screen. And _your_ numbers, if I am correct, are ASCII code, which represents text.” He pulled up a program and typed in the first numbers Raleigh had found on his hand —  72797769 — and then the new ones — 83797978. “And if we translate them…” Hermann pressed a button, and the program displayed two words.

“What is it?” Raleigh asked. “What’s it say?”

Hermann looked at Newt. Newt looked at the computer screen. Finally, Newt spoke.

“It says ‘HOME SOON.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: The trail to Yancy Becket starts to reveal itself. Newt wants to make contact. Hermann questions his own principles. 
> 
>  
> 
> all of the abduction cases mentioned here were made up, but inspired by either x-files episodes (think episode 1.04 "conduit") or actual abductee experiences!! also, google "the phoenix lights" to find some truly wild conspiracy sites out there. i'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully soon! comments greatly appreciated as always, your feedback keeps me going!!


	9. BROTHERS, part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dear diary,” Newt said loftily, “today my heart leapt when Hermann Gottlieb suggested a conspiracy theory even crazier than mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello hello! i return once again bearing the gift of a new chapter. thanks as always for your patience with these breaks in between, i promise i'm very determined to continue this fic to its planned conclusion, even if it takes a bit longer than i anticipated. 
> 
> no warnings for this chapter i think, but as always if there's anything you'd like me to warn for at the top of the chapter, let me know!

It was early enough in the morning that the sun hadn’t risen yet when Hermann and Newt arrived at the Beckets’ house. Jules pulled into the drive moments after they did, and when she got out of her cruiser she looked harried but more awake than Hermann felt.

“Morning,” she said as they all walked towards the house together. “You two want to fill me in on what exactly we’re doing here at five in the morning?”

Hermann glanced at Newt. “As we said on the phone, we’ve cracked the code with the numbers. And it seems Mr. Becket’s had another dream.”

“The sooner we’re able to talk with him after an incident like this, the more details we’ll be able to get,” Newt added. “If the connection with his brother is still fresh enough, we might even be able to induce another vision.”

“Uh-huh,” Jules said, sounding unconvinced. “Well, alright.” She gave Hermann an odd look, like she was waiting for him to challenge Newt’s claims, but Hermann just didn’t have it in him. When he’d seen those numbers turn into the words HOME SOON, a sense of dread had coiled in his stomach that had yet to leave. It didn’t make _sense_ , and yet he couldn’t find the right words to refute it. So he just returned Jules’s look with a slight shrug, standing beside Newt as he knocked on the door.

Raleigh answered, still in his pajamas. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, with dark circles beneath. He ushered them inside.

The first thing Newt wanted to see was the bedroom. He walked over to Raleigh’s computer, running his hand along the top of it. Hermann followed, pressing his palm against it in Newt’s wake.

“It’s gone cold now,” he muttered. Louder, to Raleigh, he added, “Would you be opposed to me examining this back at the station?”

“Examining it for what?” Raleigh asked, frowning.

“Malware, hidden programs or devices that could have caused it to heat up in the night. It’s possible someone is using it while you’re sleeping to affect you in some way,” Hermann said.

“You know of any malware that can project dreams into people’s heads?” Newt asked, and Hermann rolled his eyes.

Raleigh shrugged. “Sure, take it. Do what you need to do.”

They headed back into the living room. “Talk to me about your dream,” Newt said. “Any other details that you can remember?”

“No, I told you everything on the phone,” Raleigh said. “It was dark, there weren’t a lot of details in the first place. The frost was new, but that’s about it.”

“Frost… and the message says ‘home soon.’ Do you think he means Anchorage?” Newt asked.

Raleigh shook his head. “It wasn’t in Anchorage. It was here, in the desert. I could just… tell.” He rubbed a hand against his temple. “I don’t know how to explain it, things are fuzzier than they were when I first woke up. In the dreams, I know things because Yancy knows them. But when I wake up, it’s like trying to hold onto water.”

Newt nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Have you ever tried reaching out to him first?”

“What?”

“We’re treating this like the connection only goes one way — that we can only get information from Yancy when he chooses to send you a message,” Newt said, a growing excitement in his voice. “But if you were able to tap into that connection _purposefully…_ people have had success using hypnosis or meditation to —”

“Hypnosis?” Jules interrupted.

“What the hell are we talking about here?” Raleigh added. He was frowning at Newt suspiciously, and Hermann sighed. He’d been afraid of this, of Raleigh’s tentative trust in them crumbling under the weight of Newt’s more extreme ideas.

“I’m talking about you being able to have some control over the information you’re getting from Yancy,” Newt said insistently, either not recognizing the skepticism of everyone in the room, or not caring. “I mean, not to put too fine a point on it, but this is a chance to get unprecedented information about the beings that abducted him. The untapped knowledge you’re sitting on —”

“Okay, stop,” Raleigh said, cutting Newt off again. He looked legitimately angry now. “I don’t give a shit about learning more about these things unless it’s going to bring Yancy back home. Whatever other agenda you’ve got going on, Agent Geiszler, I’m not interested.” He folded his arms.

Newt laughed humorlessly. “Listen, you’re misunderstanding me. We’re on the same team here, Raleigh. We both want the same thing.”

Hermann and Jules exchanged vaguely uncomfortable looks. Hermann thought perhaps he should intervene in some way, but before he could make up his mind on what to say, his phone started ringing. When he pulled it out of his pocket, he saw that it was Tendo. “Ah, excuse me,” he muttered to the others, and quickly stepped out of the room into the entryway by the front door.

“Gottlieb!” Tendo said cheerfully when Hermann picked up. “How’s things in the desert?”

“Wonderful,” Hermann deadpanned. “Did you finish looking over that file I sent you?”

“Sure did,” Tendo said. “I’ll send everything your way in a minute, but I can tell you right now there’s been no manipulation to picture. Whatever this is an image of, it was really there.”

“I see.” Hermann couldn’t ignore the shivery feeling of uncertainty that came over him. It’s not that he’d been banking on Jules having tampered with the image, it’s just that… well, he wasn’t sure _what_ to do with the knowledge that it was real.

Tendo chuckled into the receiver. “Newt hasn’t gone and made you a believer now, has he?”

“Certainly not,” Hermann scoffed. “The photograph could easily be an aircraft or a military vessel.” _Using stolen alien technology_ , a voice that sounded distinctly like Newt’s said in the back of his mind.

“Sure, it could,” Tendo agreed, still with a teasing lilt to his voice. “Didn’t look like any I recognized, but the image was pretty low-res, I couldn’t get much detail without it getting too pixelated.”

“Well, thank you for looking at it,” Hermann said distractedly. The indistinct, angry arguing from the other room was growing in volume, and quite suddenly turned to a single shout, followed by a thump. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” Hermann hung up without waiting for Tendo’s reply.

Hermann was startled by the sight he was confronted with upon returning to the living room. Raleigh was sprawled on the floor, his body rigid, tendons in his neck straining. His eyes were closed, but moving rapidly beneath his lids. Newt and Jules were both kneeling beside him, looking startled.

“What’s happening?” Hermann demanded, hurrying over as quickly as he was able and kneeling down as well. His knee twinged painfully, and he knew that if he stayed in this position for long it would be hell trying to stand back up, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the pain for now.

“He just collapsed,” Jules said. She had a hand on Raleigh’s upper arm, panic growing on her face. “I think he’s having a seizure. I’m going to call for an ambulance.”

“Wait!” Newt said, holding up a hand to stop her. “I don’t think it’s a seizure. I think… I think he’s dreaming. Yancy’s reaching out to him again, sending him another message.”

“Agent Geiszler, I’m not indulging this fantasy to the point of endangering a man’s life!” Jules snapped. There was a faint humming noise coming from somewhere in the room, but Hermann couldn’t tell if it was really there or if it was just the building panic filling his head with static.

“I’m a medical doctor, okay, I know what a seizure looks like,” Newt insisted. He looked around the room for a moment, frantic, before his eyes landed on the television. “One of you check the TV.” He shoved at Hermann’s shoulder. “Hermann, come on.”

Hermann just stared at him. “Newton, this is insane. We need to call a doctor.”

“ _I’m_ a doctor, for fuck’s sake!” Newt pushed himself up to his feet and put a hand on the television, yanking it away almost immediately as if he’d been burned. “It’s practically on fire. It’s the conduit now, like his computer was last night. I’m telling you, this is exactly what happens when Raleigh has those dreams. We do anything now, we could disrupt the connection!”

“We sit here and do nothing and we could kill him,” Jules said. She rose to her feet, already pulling her phone from her pocket. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Goddamnit,” Newt muttered. He dropped back down beside Raleigh’s prone form again. “Raleigh, listen, if you can hear me, do _not_ lose the connection, okay? Focus. I need you to ask Yancy —” And then he paused. His expression was conflicted, a mixture of emotions flitting across his face. Hermann could only guess at what he was thinking, but considering the argument he and Raleigh had been having minutes earlier, Hermann had a pretty good idea. “Just ask him where he is, how we can find him,” Newt said finally.

Jules speaking into the phone, her voice tight with anxiety, was the only sound in the room besides the humming for a heart-stopping moment. The strange hum grew louder, and Hermann was now certain it was coming from the television. Then, just as it reached a peak, it cut out entirely and Raleigh’s body went limp. A moment later, his eyes shot open. Gasping like he’d been pulled from underwater, he struggled blearily to sit up.

“What… what happened? Why am I on the floor?” he said.

“You kinda collapsed on us there, my man,” Newt said. He put a hand on Raleigh’s shoulder. “Want to tell us what you saw?”

“Newton,” Hermann muttered. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jules got off the phone with the paramedics and came over to Raleigh’s side again.

Raleigh frowned, rubbing at his temple. “I saw Yancy. I know where he is.” His eyes widened. “Or, not where he _is_ , but where he _will_ be. Tonight. We have to go out to the desert, he showed me —”

“The only place you have to go right now is a hospital,” Jules interjected. “You might have just had a seizure. We need to make sure you’re alright.”

Though Raleigh insisted he was fine, Jules still ushered him onto the ambulance when it arrived. She went with Raleigh in the ambulance, but told Newt and Hermann to just go back to their hotel, promising to call them with updates about Raleigh — though she seemed somewhat reluctant to do so. Newt and Hermann stood on the Beckets’ porch to watch the ambulance as it drove off, leaving them in uncomfortable silence.

\--

To Newt’s surprise, Hermann followed him into his hotel room instead of heading into his own. Hermann sat down heavily on the bed, and after a moment’s hesitation, Newt joined him. Hermann was rubbing absently at his bad knee, and Newt winced sympathetically — he’d been kneeling on the floor for quite a while back there.

“Newton,” Hermann said eventually. He was looking down, watching his own fingers massage the aching joint through the fabric of his pants. “Were you certain he wasn’t having a seizure?”

Newt sucked in a breath. “I was pretty sure,” he said. “And even if he was, it’s not like we could’ve done anything except make sure his airway wasn’t blocked, which it wasn’t, so.”

He was used to people thinking he was crazy, and that assumption had manifested itself in a variety of ways over the course of Newt’s career — disdain, mockery, dismissal. Those reactions rarely fazed him now, beyond being slightly frustrating. But sometimes people gave him a look like they were terrified of the manic energy behind his eyes, like his unconventional methods and his fantastical beliefs made him frightening. Sometimes he pushed too far, caught up in his own convictions, and he knew that. He could even admit that he’d gone too far today.

But Newt realized it would hurt much more than he’d anticipated if Hermann was now _scared_ of him.

“Agent Choi called,” Hermann said. He still wasn’t making eye contact, so Newt couldn’t get a good read on how he was feeling. “He said the photograph Detective Reyes took is authentic.”

“Were you expecting it not to be?” Newt asked.

“I don’t know.” Hermann shook his head. “None of this makes any sense to me. At times I envy the strength of your beliefs. I’ve never met someone as passionate as you are.”

Newt huffed out a quiet chuckle. “Thanks, I think.”

Hermann looked at him then, and there was no fear in his eyes, which was a relief, but there was something else — concern. “But I also worry your passion can… blind you to reason.”  

“What are you getting at, man?” Newt sighed.

“Just — be careful, Newton. Not everyone is as forgiving as I am with regard to your methods.”

Newt raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you’re forgiving now?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

He wasn’t expecting such an earnest reply. After a moment, he said. “Yeah. Thanks for that. And, uh, sorry.” He didn’t elaborate on what he was sorry for, but he didn’t need to. The faint, brief smile that crossed Hermann’s face meant that he knew. Feeling considerably better than he had a moment ago, Newt shifted on the bed so he was leaning back, propped up on his elbows. “So, what d’you think are the chances that the detective really does call us with updates?”

Hermann frowned. “She’d better.” He paused, exhaling a short huff of pain as his hand stilled in its methodical movements against his leg.

“Hey,” Newt said, “we might as well hang out here until we hear from her, so we’re in the same place when she calls. You can get more comfortable, y’know. Stretch your leg out if you need to.” He twisted at the waist so he could face Hermann a bit better.

Looking mildly flustered, Hermann said, “Right, yes, well — I don’t want to impose on your space —”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Newt said dismissively. Hermann’s obsession with propriety even when it was just the two of them had lessened somewhat in the weeks of their working together, but he still acted like he’d never relaxed once in his life. Even as he awkwardly shuffled up to the head of the bed and stretched his bad leg out in front of him, he held his body in a stiff, almost calculated fashion. Newt wondered if _lounging_ was even in Hermann’s vocabulary. He sprawled a bit more onto the bed and Hermann grumbled wordlessly.

After a few moments, Hermann said, with uncharacteristic hesitance, “Newton… are you at all aware of the conspiracy theories surrounding the, er, Phoenix Lights phenomenon? Specifically the one stating that they were the U.S. government using alien technology?”

“Sure, I’ve heard that one before,” Newt said. He grinned. “Why Hermann, you’re not about to tell me you _believe_ that, are you?”

“Of course not,” Hermann said, too quickly. “I mean to say, I don’t believe _alien_ technology had anything to do with it, but I wonder if it’s possible that all of this, Yancy’s kidnapping, is being orchestrated by some classified government organization — oh, don’t give me that look.”

Newt couldn’t help but grin even wider. “Dear diary,” he said loftily, “today my heart leapt when Hermann Gottlieb suggested a conspiracy theory even crazier than mine.”

“I don’t see what makes it any more far-fetched than your telekinesis nonsense,” Hermann groused. “Anyway, I thought you’d be glad I was opening my mind to extreme possibility or whatever it is you’re always going on about.”

“I _would_ be happy, if your theory weren’t so easy to poke holes in,” Newt said. He rolled over onto his stomach, propping his chin up on his arms. “How do you explain Raleigh’s visions and the numbers?”

“Well…” Hermann looked sheepish. “He could be in on it. He and Yancy both.” There wasn’t much conviction in his voice at this point, just a stubbornness and a refusal to admit he was wrong. Newt enjoyed that about him; it was what made Hermann just so fun to wind up and argue with.

“With what motive?” Newt asked. He shook his head. “It all falls apart, Hermann, admit it. With extraterrestrials, there are all kinds of explanations. Research, experimentation, hostage situation… although I don’t think they’re hostile, we’d have seen way more signs of that by now if they were.”

“Hmm. I’d think we’d have seen signs of them _at all_ if they were really coming down to Earth and snatching people up as often as your files say.”

“Now you’re just being pissy because you know I’m right,” Newt said breezily. Hermann just scowled at him, and Newt reached out to pat Hermann’s leg in mock sympathy. Hermann looked like he might kick him in the head. Newt felt unreasonably delighted by the entire exchange.

They waited a long while for Jules to call them, and at some point Hermann dozed off; he’d been rudely awoken pretty early that morning, after all. Newt ended up sitting on the end of the bed and looking through his files again, trying to glean all he could about cases involving telekinesis. And, with a quick glance over at Hermann to make sure he really was asleep, Newt also pulled out his phone and did a little more reading up about certain conspiracy theories surrounding the Phoenix Lights.

When Jules finally did get in touch, it was by text; Newt’s phone buzzed, and he quickly read over the message before shaking Hermann gently by the shoulder to rouse him. “Hey, just got word from Jules. She says Raleigh’s okay, she wants us to meet both of them at the hospital.”

Jules seemed marginally less pissed off at Newt by the time they arrived, and Raleigh looked perfectly fine, if exhausted.

“What’s the verdict?” Newt asked.

Raleigh shrugged. “They said I’m fine. No reason to keep me.” He glanced at Jules, who gave him a weary nod. “So, about my vision, or whatever you want to call it. We have to go back to the spot where Yancy was…  taken. Tonight. Detective Reyes already agreed to it, we’re going to drive out there at sundown.”

“You don’t have to join us, but I have a feeling you’ll want to,” Jules added, looking pointedly at Newt.

He felt vaguely sheepish. “Of course we’re coming,” he said. “This is why we’re here. To help, I mean.” To Raleigh, he added, “Look, what I said earlier today, I know I pushed a little too far but —”

“I get it,” Raleigh said. “I know what you’re after, Agent Geiszler, I’m just not interested. You’ll have to find those answers somewhere else.” He laughed humorlessly. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find them tonight.”

“What exactly _are_ we going to find out there?” Hermann asked, frowning.

Raleigh shook his head. “My brother. Other than that, I have no fucking clue.”

“Very reassuring,” Hermann muttered.

 

At sundown, the four of them met at the Becket house again, this time to pile into Raleigh’s truck and drive out into the desert. Raleigh couldn’t give them any clearer directions than, “I’ll know it when I see it.” He would be the one driving, with Jules in shotgun and Newt and Hermann in the back.

Before they set off, Newt chuckled quietly to himself. Hermann, who had been looking increasingly anxious, eyed him suspiciously.

“What is it?” he said in a low voice.

“Just thinking about how it’d be funny if your crazy theory is true, and Raleigh’s in on some conspiracy, and now we’re just letting him drive us off into the middle of nowhere.”

Hermann paled slightly. “I don’t think that’s funny at all.”

Newt patted the gun holstered at his hip. “Relax. We’re fine. Besides, I trust him.”

The sunset stained the sky pink-orange-red at their backs as they sped down the road. Newt watched the saguaros and cholla cacti flashing past the window and tried not to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d seen some strange things in his career — in his _life_ — but he’d rarely felt so close to uncovering this particular truth. Whatever was waiting for him in the desert that night, he was ready to face it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: Answers are found in the desert, but so are more questions. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> thanks so much for reading, y'all! this particular arc has been more of a challenge than i expected (writing raleigh and jules? very hard) but i'm excited for what i Think will be the final installment of this case coming.... soon?? no guarantees, but hopefully within the next month. comments/feedback always so deeply appreciated!! see ya soon!


	10. BROTHERS, part four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What… is it?” Hermann asked. “Is this normal?”  
> “I wouldn’t say normal, no,” Jules said. “Would I say aliens? Also no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hi there friends! it's been a long time but i'm finally back with a new chapter! this one's a bit on the short side, because i decided to split up what turned out to be a gargantuan last chapter into two smaller ones. i appreciate your patience and i hope you've continued to stick around and read, because i have lots of exciting stuff planned for this fic and i'm not giving up on it! 
> 
> no warnings for this chapter, just enjoy the ride! see ya in the end notes.

The desert was vast and alien, illuminated only by the headlights of Raleigh’s truck and the moonlight overhead. Newt watched the landscape through the window; they’d gotten far enough out of the city by now that the asphalt had given way to dirt paths, created by vehicles driving the same way over the course of time. 

“You know you’re not really supposed to drive your truck out here,” Jules commented from the front seat.

“I’m aware,” Raleigh huffed, peering out the windshield. “You said the same thing to me five years ago.”

Beside Newt, Hermann was staring fixedly out the window. In the reflection of the glass, Newt could see that his expression was grim. He hadn’t been nearly this anxious on their last case, when the two of them had set off in a crappy little rowboat into unknown waters. But then again, Hermann hadn’t seemed quite as drawn into the Minnow Lake case as he did with this one. He certainly hadn’t been spouting conspiracy theories of his own. 

“We’re here,” Raleigh said. He stopped the truck, leaving the headlights on, and hurried out of his seat almost immediately. Newt, Hermann, and Jules scrambled to follow.

They were in the middle of the desert, of course, a spot that seemed about the same as everything else they’d driven past. Creosote bushes dotted the area, along with a few barrel cacti and, a little further away, a small cluster of sandstone buttes, pockmarked with openings and small caves. From the distance, in the dark, the openings looked like many black, empty eyes. Newt thought about the liquid eyes of the alien in his dream, suppressed a shiver and turned away.

Hermann was eyeing the creosote bushes. “I suppose much of the desert looks the same, but as near as I can tell, this really is the place where Yancy’s, ah, _abduction_ occured.” 

“I don’t remember anyone mentioning the caves over there,” Newt said, nodding in the direction of the buttes. “Seems like a convenient place to hide.”

“There were no footprints,” Hermann reminded him. “Although those could’ve been wiped away, all this dirt.” He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose mentioning _my_ theory again would only earn more scoffing?”

Newt cracked a smile. “I would never scoff at you, Hermann,” he said. “You’re the one who’s supposed to do the scoffing.”  

A few feet from them, Raleigh and Jules were pacing around, probably retracing steps from the last time they’d been to this spot five years previously. Newt wandered over to them. 

“So,” he said to Raleigh. “What’s that psychic link telling you now, my guy?”

“I don’t know,” Raleigh said. He sounded frustrated. “I know we’re supposed to be _here_ , that’s all.”

“Are we just supposed to stand around and wait for Yancy to get beamed down from a UFO?” Jules said. She crossed her arms. “Listen, I put a lot of frankly undeserved faith into this little road trip, but I can only justify so much. I have important things I could be doing back at the station.”

“Undeserved — you know what, you’ve been nothing but shitty about this whole thing for five years,” Raleigh said, scowling. “I don’t think you ever wanted to find Yancy!”

“Of course I want to find him, Raleigh, but I don’t know how much more obvious it can be that he’s _not here_!” Jules retorted. She spread her arms, a gesture to the empty desert. “We’re going on a wild goose chase led by your subconscious.”

“With all due respect, this might not be as wild a goose chase as you think,” Hermann said delicately. He pointed in the direction of the buttes. “Agent Geiszler and I were just noticing those caves.”

Jules and Raleigh stopped their bickering. Still somewhat skeptical, Jules said, “You think Yancy’s hiding out in there?”

“It’s worth a look,” Newt said. “We’re already out here.”

Raleigh squinted at the cave openings in the dark. He nodded.

Even at night, the desert was warm. The sky was clear, far enough away from the light pollution that the stars were visible. As they approached the buttes, Raleigh stopped short, and Newt almost walked right into him. 

“Do you feel that?” Raleigh asked.

“Feel what?” Hermann said. And then he shivered. “Is it… colder over here?” 

Newt stepped around Raleigh so he was closer to the caves, and sure enough, felt the chill of cold air coming from one of the openings to his left. It didn’t feel like a breeze — more like the feeling of standing in front of an open fridge door. Distinctly unnatural, man-made.

“What… _is_ it?” Hermann asked. “Is this normal?”

“I wouldn’t say _normal,_  no,” Jules said. “Would I say _aliens_? Also no.” 

Newt clicked on his flashlight with more aggression than was probably necessary. “I’m going to check it out. Becket, you’re with me.” He looked at Hermann, whose expression was just shy of panicked. “Um, Gottlieb, why don’t you and the detective stay out here. Keep an eye out for anything fishy.” 

“We’ll be watching for flying saucers,” Jules deadpanned. Newt made a face at her, but she was already looking away, back toward where they’d left the car. 

Hermann grabbed Newt’s shoulder before he could walk away. “Newton,” he said in a low voice. “Be careful, would you?”

“Always am,” Newt said, flashing Hermann a grin. “Hey, relax. It’s fine.” 

“I’m relaxed,” Hermann retorted, in the least relaxed tone of voice Newt had ever heard. 

“Agent Geiszler! We going in or what?” Raleigh interrupted. Hermann released Newt’s shoulder, looking sheepish, and Newt tossed off a mock salute before he and Raleigh headed into the cold entry of the cave, swallowed up into the black. 

 

It was colder inside, the beam of Newt’s flashlight stark against the dirt and sandstone. Raleigh towered over Newt, his face shadowed and unreadable. For all his urgency before, it seemed like he was dragging his feet now, scuffing up dust. 

“You good?” Newt asked.

Raleigh kept his gaze straight ahead. “What if he’s in here?”

Newt huffed out a laugh. “I mean, that’s what we’re hoping for, right? I didn’t just waltz into a dark cave for fun.”

Raleigh stopped short and looked at Newt then, his expression hard. “I _mean_ , what if he’s in here, but he’s not —” He swallowed roughly and didn’t finish. 

Any remaining levity left Newt, and he put a hand on Raleigh’s arm. “You know, my mom disappeared when I was a kid. No one knew what had happened to her or where she went. But _I_ saw it, and what I saw… she didn’t just vanish, Raleigh. She was taken. Like Yancy was taken.” 

Raleigh’s eyes widened. “You think it was the same thing? Is that why you were going on about hypnosis and untapped knowledge and shit? I thought you were just one of those weirdos who’s hot for aliens or something.”

“Look, that’s _really_ not the point I’m making here,” Newt interjected. “What I’m saying is, there haven’t been any psychic visions in _my_ dreams. I still don’t have any trace of finding my mom. And if I did? Even if it meant finding out she was dead, I’d want to know. That not knowing can eat you alive if you’re not careful.”

For a moment, Raleigh was silent. And then, slowly, he nodded. “You’re right. Fuck, you’re right. Okay. Let’s go.” 

“And for the record,” Newt added, “I _don’t_ think he’s dead.” 

“Oh. Thanks. I hope you’re right,” Raleigh said. 

The cave was not especially deep, for all that the darkness made it appear to be. Before long, something started to vaguely crunch underfoot, and Newt shone the flashlight at the ground. A thin layer of frost stretched out across the ground past the flashlight’s beam, and once again Newt was reminded of a refrigerator more than anything. It looked similar to the buildup of ice in the corner of Newt’s mini fridge in undergrad. It was as if someone were trying to keep something in this cave sedated — or preserved. Newt hoped it was just the former.

“This was in my dreams,” Raleigh said. He knelt down to touch the ground, shuddering in a way Newt was pretty sure didn’t have anything to do with the chill in the air. “This is fucking unreal.” 

The two of them had only gone a few dozen feet further into the cave when they both spotted a shadowy, human-shaped something on the ground. Raleigh ran the last few paces until he reached it, Newt scrambling to keep up and illuminate the scene. The body was undeniably Yancy Becket, laying flat on his back on a thick circle of frost in the dirt. His chest moved up and down with his breath, shallow and slow, but steady. He appeared to be unconscious. 

“Yancy? Yancy, can you hear me?” Raleigh said, dropping to his knees and gently shaking his brother’s shoulder. The older Becket twitched, his brow furrowing, and then his eyes cracked open just the slightest bit.

“R… Raleigh?” he croaked.

Raleigh let out a half-sob, half-laugh. He was grinning even as tears glinted in his eyes. “Yeah, it’s me. It’s me.” 

“You got my message,” Yancy said faintly. “It worked.” He turned his head slowly, seeking out the light source, and when he saw Newt his expression clouded. “Who’s this?”

“Newt Geiszler,” Newt said quickly, kneeling down. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been helping your brother here to crack your codes. Do you know where you are right now?” 

Yancy did not look especially thrilled to see Newt. “Y-you told other people?” he said hoarsely, turning back to Raleigh. “It was only supposed to be you…” 

Raleigh was near delirious with the return of his brother, and barely processed what Yancy was saying. “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re gonna get you out of here. We’re gonna take you home.” He tucked a hand under Yancy’s shoulder, starting to hoist him up into a sitting position. “Can you stand?” 

“It’s not right,” Yancy mumbled, letting Raleigh manhandle him upright. “Just supposed to be you.”  

“Yancy, who brought you here? Who told you that only your brother should find you?” Newt pressed, clambering back to his feet. “I know you’re probably pretty confused right now, but _anything_ you can remember —” 

From behind them, back toward the entrance of the cave, Newt could suddenly hear Hermann’s voice, shouting. “Newton!” He sounded frantic. “Newton, come out here, now!” 

Hermann was using Newt’s first name when other people could hear him; he must be seriously freaking out. Newt frowned, turning around to peer back at the way they’d come before turning to Raleigh again. He had Yancy standing now, his brother’s arm over his shoulder. Yancy was as tall as Raleigh and just as broad; Newt couldn’t imagine he’d be any help at all in carrying the guy out of the cave. 

Raleigh caught Newt’s eye. “We’ll be right behind you,” he said, jerking his chin in the direction of the cave’s entrance. 

Newt gave him a grateful nod and tossed him the flashlight. Raleigh fumbled but managed to catch it, and then Newt was off, following the dim light and the way the air grew slowly warmer as he got closer to the mouth of the cave. He could hear Raleigh and Yancy behind him, the beam of the flashlight making Newt’s shadow stretch out in front of him. He stumbled out into the desert night again, and saw Hermann and Jules standing a few feet from the cave, both of them staring up at something behind the buttes. As Newt hurried toward them, Raleigh and Yancy staggered out of the cave behind him. Jules tore her eyes away from the sky and spotted them. Her jaw dropped slightly and she ran over to them, moving to Yancy’s other side to help Raleigh keep him upright. Newt reached Hermann’s side and looked upward. His heart instantly leapt to his throat.  

Five lights hovered in a V formation in the sky above the buttes. Bright, glowing white orbs, high enough that it was difficult to discern what, if anything, they were attached to. They were immobile, and there was no sound of an engine, but the air crackled with static electricity. Newt had seen plenty of strange things that he couldn’t explain, and had seen dozens and dozens of photos of phenomena like this, but to see it in person… he was breathless. He pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos, but the lights barely showed up on the camera.

“Shortly after you entered the cave, we felt something in the air,” Hermann said in a hushed voice, not taking his eyes off the sky. “I thought perhaps it was a storm coming in, but then Detective Reyes looked up and…” he trailed off. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the lights. “Newton, what _is_ it?”

Newt grinned. “If I had to hazard a guess, Hermann, I’d say _that_ is a UFO.”

Hermann scoffed, but it sounded half-hearted at best.  

“Hey, it’s unidentified, it’s a flying object, I think it fits the bill,” Newt said. He felt giddy, almost high.

The lights started to move then, upwards, growing smaller and fainter as they went. They were still silent, but a faint rush of air ruffled Newt’s hair. Overwhelmed with emotion, he grabbed Hermann’s hand. He expected to be batted away, for Hermann to wrench his hand free and grumble about professional boundaries, but he didn’t. Instead, his fingers curled around Newt’s and squeezed tightly. Newt glanced down at their clasped hands and then up at Hermann’s face. Hermann wasn’t looking at him, his expression one of dazed, disbelieving wonder as the lights continued to rise and fade. Warmth unfurled in Newt’s chest, and all at once it had nothing whatsoever to do with the lights in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: Newt, Hermann, and Jules try to get answers out of Yancy Becket. The case takes an unexpected turn. 
> 
>  
> 
> the last chapter for this case will be up in one week!!! that's right, no promises for the future but for now, we are back to a weekly schedule. please leave me a comment if you feel so inclined, feedback from y'all really means the world to me!!


	11. BROTHERS, part five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you saw it,” Newt said, a smile creeping across his face. “You saw it, clear as I did, and you can’t deny it, not this time. We have proof.”  
> “We don’t know what it was, Newton.”  
> “Yeah,” Newt said, fully beaming now. “Yeah, and doesn’t that fucking thrill you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've come to the end of another case. for this one, i drew inspiration from the x-files episodes 1x02 "deep throat" and 1x04 "conduit" primarily! both very good early txf episodes that i've pulled a lot of inspo from throughout this fic, i highly recommend. 
> 
> thanks so much as always for sticking around and leaving me nice comments! i hope you'll enjoy the end of this arc. no warnings for this one, so i'll see ya in the end notes!

Perhaps it was because they were all so rattled by what they had seen, but when Yancy insisted that he just needed to go home, no one tried to fight him on it. The drive back to the Beckets’ duplex was uncomfortably silent; Hermann sat up front with Jules, while Newt sat wedged in the back with the Becket brothers. None of them were especially ready to bring up anything that had happened until they were behind closed doors. Jules had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. She hadn’t said much at all about what they’d seen in the sky. Her face was grim.

As they drove, Hermann tried to do what he did best and mentally rationalize the situation. It could have been an aircraft, or searchlights reflecting off the clouds. The fact that it was above the very place where Yancy Becket was found was quite the coincidence, but improbable coincidences happened all the time. 

He wasn’t doing the best job at convincing himself of any of these things. 

But if it really _was_ … something else… Hermann didn’t know what that would _mean_ , for himself or for the world. 

When they got back to the house, Raleigh made a pot of coffee and they all settled in the living room, the Beckets on one couch and Hermann, Newt, and Jules on the other. Yancy sipped his coffee and stared across at them with tired, suspicious eyes. Hermann couldn’t blame him — their seating arrangement did make it feel like an interrogation. He wanted to offer some kind of reassurance, but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound hollow, and in any case, they _did_ need answers. He glanced at Newt, waiting for him to take the lead. 

“So, Yancy,” Newt said finally. “I understand if your memory of what happened to you is a bit fuzzy, but we need to know how you ended up in that cave tonight. Where have you been the last five years?”

Yancy set down his mug. “How exactly did you people get involved?” 

“I was looking for you,” Raleigh answered softly, before Newt could say anything. “Jesus, Yancy, what else was I supposed to do?”

“It was _supposed_ to be just you, that was the point,” Yancy said. He sounded frustrated, and perhaps a bit scared, too. It made Hermann nervous.

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Raleigh huffed. “What the hell does that even mean? Whose rules are we supposed to be following?” 

“What took you that night, when you disappeared?” Newt added. 

For a long moment, it seemed like Yancy wasn’t going to answer at all. Then the tension left his shoulders and he slumped back against the couch. “I don’t know who they were. They were always… careful. About what they let me see, what they told me. All I knew was that they needed me for the tech, and it took them a long fucking time before they got it to work.” 

“The ‘tech’ being whatever it was that allowed you to transmit messages to your brother,” Hermann said.

“That’s the one,” Yancy said with a grim smile. “Telepathic communication technology. They had no idea what they were messing with, but they made it work. Well, mostly. Still couldn’t get written words to go through right.”

“This ‘they’ you keep talking about… they’re human?” Newt asked.

Yancy stared at him. “Obviously. What else would they be?” His tone wasn’t incredulous. It sounded like a warning.

“I’m sorry,” Jules interjected. “You mean to tell me someone held you captive for five years in order to test experimental technology, and then they just let you go and dumped you in the desert? Why now?”

A pause. “I don’t know,” Yancy said finally.

Beside him, Hermann felt Newt shifting, and a moment later there was an elbow being dug into his ribs. Hermann glanced over at Newt, frowning. Newt looked pointedly down at his own lap, where he’d pulled out his phone. In the notes app, he’d written: _he’s lying_. This made Hermann’s frown deepen, but he merely looked back up at Newt’s face for a moment. Newt’s eyes were wide and insistent. 

Thankfully, Jules was speaking, distracting Yancy and Raleigh from Newt’s lack of subtlety. “Is there _anything_ you can remember about the people who made this technology? Were they American?”

“They didn’t make it,” Yancy said. “They… acquired it.”

His words sent a chill down Hermann’s spine. “Acquired it from _whom_?” he demanded.  

Yancy just looked at him with those dark, tired eyes. “I think you already know.” 

“Okay, you know what? I think we’re done for tonight,” Jules said, clapping her hands together and rising to her feet. “What you need, Mr. Becket, is to get some sleep. We’ll come back in the morning and we’ll try this conversation again, how’s that sound?” 

“Now hold on just a second,” Newt started to protest.

“Agents, a word?” Jules cut him off. Still looking irritated, Newt followed her a few paces away from the couch, and Hermann trailed behind him. “We’re not getting anywhere with this guy right now,” Jules said to the two of them in a low voice. “He’s been through something traumatic, he’s not going to give any of us a straight answer no matter how many ways we try to grill him. I know you want answers, Agent Geiszler, but you’re going to have to wait.”

“We were onto something just now, I know we were,” Newt insisted. “You’re shaken up because of what we saw, and I get that, but you can’t just shut things down in the middle of an investigation —”

“Actually, I can, and I am,” Jules snapped. “And don’t assume to know my motivation or my feelings. I will meet both of you here tomorrow morning at nine. End of discussion.” 

“I think she’s right, Agent Geiszler,” Hermann murmured. Newt turned to look at him, betrayal written all over his face. “Well, I’m sorry, but I do.” 

“Christ, fine,” Newt huffed. He turned back to where the brothers were watching them from the couch. Even Raleigh was starting to look as worn down as his brother. “Looks like we’ll be seeing you two in the morning, but if you feel like sharing anything you remember before that, just call me, alright?”

“Sure thing,” Raleigh said. He looked at Yancy, concern creasing his brow. It was almost painful to look at the two of them, and Hermann quickly averted his eyes before following Newt and Jules out of the room. 

\--

As they drove back to the hotel, Newt was torn between feeling elated and furious. It was the closest he’d ever been to proof of extraterrestrial life, and yet something was keeping Yancy from telling him the whole truth. He was certain if he’d just had five more minutes in there, he could’ve gotten some real answers — a fact he was ranting about to Hermann from the passenger seat.

“Newton,” Hermann interrupted him, “I’m not saying you’re wrong. Maybe you could’ve cracked him if we’d stayed longer. But did you _look_ at him? He was exhausted. And he isn’t a, a _vessel_ to provide you with the truth, he’s a person. A traumatized person, at that.” He glanced away from the road just long enough to give Newt a stern look. “I think perhaps sometimes you get so caught up in your investigating that you might forget that.” 

Newt huffed, but he couldn’t exactly say Hermann was wrong. “Yeah, well.” Unable to think of a good enough retort, he fell silent for several long minutes. Finally, he said, “I think she was scared. Jules, I mean.”

“Mm.” Hermann didn’t so much as glance at him this time.

“Were you?” Newt pressed.

“I…” Hermann hesitated. He sighed. “I don’t know how I feel.”

“But you saw it,” Newt said, a smile creeping across his face. “You saw it, clear as I did, and you can’t deny it, not this time. We have _proof_.”

“We don’t know what it was, Newton.”

“Yeah,” Newt said, fully beaming now. “Yeah, and doesn’t that fucking thrill you?”

Hermann said nothing. He did not look especially thrilled.

When they got back to their hotel rooms, Newt expected Hermann to linger like he had the night before, but he barely muttered a “good night” before disappearing into his room. Newt frowned before following suit. He didn’t even bother trying to sleep — he just sat on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about lights in the sky and waiting for morning. 

 

Newt bustled Hermann out the door by 8:15 the next morning. Hermann, bleary and scowling over the mug of coffee from the hotel lobby that Newt had presented to him, muttered, “You realize we’re going to be early.” 

“Yup,” Newt said, jingling the car keys in one hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll drive. You just carry on regaining consciousness.”

Hermann huffed. “Newton, Detective Reyes asked us to be there at nine.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I wouldn’t mind getting there before she does,” Newt said cagily. 

“Are you always this uncooperative with the local authority, or has this just been a string of unfortunate coincidences?” Hermann said. 

Newt grinned at him. “Aw, Hermann, I think you know the answer to that one already.” 

He devised a game plan on the drive over; Yancy had seemed slightly more willing to answer Hermann than Newt, so Hermann could do a majority of the question-asking. Newt was back to feeling good about this, to feeling excited about the proof they were uncovering. He offered suggestions on what to ask, which Hermann met with his usual skepticism in between sips of coffee and scrolling through his email on his phone.

“Oh, this is odd,” Hermann said. “I’ve just received an email from the travel department at the Bureau. Apparently they’ve booked us a flight home for today at noon.”

Newt frowned. “But we didn’t request a flight home today. We’re not done here, not by a long shot.”

He pulled up to the Beckets’ duplex around 8:40. Jules’s cruiser was already in the driveway, and she was sitting on the hood.

“Son of a bitch,” Newt muttered, killing the ignition. As he got out of the car, he also noticed that the door of the Beckets’ place was slightly ajar. 

“Someone’s been here,” Hermann said. He gestured to the ground, where tire tracks were pressed into the gravel. It appeared as though at least three or four other cars had pulled out of the driveway somewhat recently. 

“Detective!” Newt called, approaching her. She stood up, watching him warily. “You’re early.”

“So are you,” she countered, crossing her arms. She looked between the two of them. “I’m afraid you missed it, your people already left. The Beckets are gone.” 

“Excuse me?” Newt said. “What d’you mean, gone?”

“I decided to get here a little early, just in case you tried to start the conversation without me,” Jules said. “When I arrived, there were four cars parked in the drive and they were putting the boys into one of them.”

“They?” Hermann repeated. 

Jules smiled thinly. “Let’s just say whoever signs off on their paychecks is also signing off on yours. Level five clearance, according to their paperwork.”

“Well we sure as hell weren’t clued into any of this,” Newt said. “If someone higher up on the ladder is taking over the case, they didn’t tell us.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair before pointing to Jules accusingly. “Actually, why didn’t _you_ call us? You could’ve detained them, at least until we got here!” 

“Right, I could’ve just _detained_ four cars full of federal agents,” she scoffed, pushing his finger out of her face. “And I didn’t contact you because I thought you were _in on it_. Agent Geiszler, this case has gotten bigger than you, and it’s gotten much bigger than me. Whatever Yancy and Raleigh got themselves wrapped up in, I’m not saying your conspiracy theories are right, but it goes _way_ beyond my scope.”

Newt swore, turning away for a second to stare furiously at the Beckets’ open door. If they hadn’t left last night, if he’d thought for a _second_ about the possibility that perhaps they were being tracked… how foolishly naive to presume that the boys would be safe until morning. 

“How did the Beckets react, when they were being taken away?” Hermann asked. Newt turned back to face the two of them.

“Honestly…” Jules shook her head. “They didn’t react much at all. They were both… dazed isn’t the right word. Resigned, I guess.” 

“This isn’t right,” Hermann said. “There is a protocol to follow, they can’t just —”

“ _They_ can do whatever they want,” Newt said darkly. “Protocol is only for little people like us, Hermann.”

Hermann glared at him. “I’m filing a complaint with Pentecost the moment we get back to Washington, this is entirely unacceptable.”

“Sure, you can go ahead and do that,” Newt said. “But if I were you, save yourself the paperwork. Like the detective said, this goes way above us. Whose interests do you think they care about? Because it’s not ours.” 

Jules sighed, some of her anger giving way to unease. “Last night — I don’t know what the hell that was, but we saw something we shouldn’t have. And now the Yancy and Raleigh are paying for it. We never should’ve driven out into that fucking desert.”

“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Hermann insisted. Jules nodded, but she looked just as skeptical of that plan as Newt felt. 

“I’ll contact you if I hear anything,” Jules said. “And… if you get those answers you’re looking for, Geiszler, you let me know.” 

Newt reached out to shake her hand, both in promise and farewell. “You got it.”

\--

Some hours later, Newt and Hermann sat on the plane that would take them back to Washington. Newt had already taken his dramamine, even though they were still on the runway. Hermann took out his wallet, looking at something inside. Newt tried none-too-subtly to snoop on him and see what it was, and Hermann noticed immediately. Instead of getting angry, he just pulled out a photograph and showed it to Newt. 

It was of four young adults, smiling at the camera with their arms around each other. Newt spotted Hermann instantly — his hair was longer, and he didn’t have a cane. He was wearing a T-shirt, which was maybe the biggest surprise of all. He looked to be about eighteen. On his left was a girl, long hair falling in her face, caught mid-laugh. On his right was a teenage boy, maybe fifteen, all gangly limbs but with the same stick-out ears as Hermann, the same broad, easy smile as he had in the photograph. On the other side of the younger boy was a young man with the kind of severe but handsome features Newt definitely would’ve been crushing on in high school. 

“My siblings,” Hermann said. There was a quiet fondness to his voice, a touch of melancholy. “This is my sister, Karla. This one —” he tapped his finger next to the older boy, “is my older brother Dietrich. And, ah, this is Bastien.” The pad of his index finger brushed over the face of the younger boy, momentarily obscuring him. Hermann cleared his throat. “This was the summer before I left for university. It’s the last picture we all took together.” 

Newt didn’t know what to say, what words of comfort to offer. “You all look pretty happy,” he said.

“We were close, once. I don’t know if I’d say we had a bond strong enough to enable a psychic link, but — well. We were happy.” Hermann tucked the photo away, back into his wallet, and met Newt’s gaze. “Do you think it’s our fault that the Beckets were taken?”

“Nah,” Newt said. “I think… whatever department swooped in to cover this all up, that was always the plan. We just weren’t supposed to know about it.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in a wry smile. “I guess I owe you another apology, huh? I shouldn’t have called your theory crazy before. Turns out you were right.”

Hermann frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. We have no proof at all that the government is using _alien_ technology, or that the department that took over the case has any connection to whoever kidnapped Yancy in the first place.”

Newt groaned. “What, so now that I say it’s plausible you’re telling me you don’t believe it anymore? It was your idea!” 

“An idea born from paranoia and lack of sleep,” Hermann sniffed. 

“Paranoia didn’t put those lights up in the sky,” Newt pointed out. “I _did_ get pictures this time, by the way, but they’re blurry as hell, you can barely make anything out.” He pulled out his phone and showed one of the images to Hermann, who glanced down at it reluctantly. It was little more than a faint, smudgy blur against the black of the sky. “I mean, I’ve seen a lot of UFO photos in my time and even I can admit this one’s pretty shit.” 

“Does it always feel this way?” Hermann asked.

“Hm?”

“Like we’re just fumbling around for answers in the dark.”

Newt huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, it does. Sorry.” 

“I don’t know how you can stand it. How you keep going, when it all seems so… pointless.” 

“No, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Newt said, leaning in eagerly. “Last night, we got closer to the truth than I’ve ever gotten before. And maybe it won’t happen again for a while, but someday we’re going to get a case that will take us one more step closer. I’m — _we’re_ solving one of the greatest, most convoluted puzzles out there, but we _are_ going to solve it. Trust me.” He put a hand on Hermann’s arm and squeezed it reassuringly.

Hermann’s ears reddened and he pulled his arm away. Then he said softly, “Newton, I’m starting to think that you are the _only_ one I can trust.”

The plane took off, and the two of them watched out the window as they ascended, leaving the desert and its mysteries behind. 

\--

_Excerpt from Field Report: Case X320 – Agent H. Gottlieb_

_I cannot in good conscience endorse Agent Geiszler’s opinion on the phenomenon we witnessed above the buttes. While I do not yet have a concrete explanation, I have requested records from the local airport and the military air base from that night. I have also sent no less than five complaints up the Bureau chain of command in relation to the mishandling of this case, in passing it on to another department without notice or explanation. As of now, no response has been received other than a brief and frankly unsatisfactory assurance that matters are being “handled.” I am stating for the record that I will not be dissuaded._

_Agent Geiszler attempted to contact Detective Jules Reyes shortly after our return to Washington, but we were informed she has been transferred out of Arizona entirely, and has moved to a precinct California. We were told this was in order to be closer to family. We were also told that we could not receive contact information at this time._

_It seems the more I try to make sense of this case, the more obscured the entire situation becomes. While I do not intend to stop searching for more information, some things are out of my hands. Therefore, at the request of the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, this case is now closed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Roll credits.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJhjfdVpkYc)
> 
>  
> 
> NEXT TIME: Another interlude between cases. Newt bumps into an unlikely visitor. Hermann goes out to lunch. 
> 
>  
> 
> not sure when exactly the next chapter is coming, but i'll do my best to get it out soon! your feedback is always appreciated in the meantime. see y'all soon!


End file.
